The BLTS Archive - The Mirror Universe: Obsession II: Vulcan
by Acidqueen (a.q@gmx.de)

---

Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom own Star Trek, I own my brain. No
infringement intended, no money being made.

Author's note: This story is the fourth part of my nasty MU series,
which consists of "Tied", "Revelations" and "Obsession I -
Enterprise".

Acknowledgment: Special thanks to my beta Hypatia! All remaining
errors are mine! Thanks to Selek's compiled Vulcan dictionary for
words.

Archive: My own website, ASCEM, all others ask, please.

---

The air over Vulcan's space harbor in Shi'Kahr was yellow, indicating
that a sand storm had traveled over the city not long ago, and all
Q'etan could see were the blinking lights of the preliminary warning
posts. Despite all technological progress, these simple signals still
had their place in the security systems, as they were more failsafe
than all others...and maybe they gave a little bit of emotional
comfort, too, greeting the arriving ships with their violet and green
colors. In 20.3 minutes they would arrive at their anchorage, and in
about another 1.35 hours they would be cleared by the harbor
personnel. It was time to prepare their cargo.

"How is it?" he asked S'to, his personal assistant, who was once again
making an unnecessary check of the docking sequence and so simply
buying time.

S'to checked on his monitors. "Its lifesigns are low and unstable. We
may not get it through the checkpoint, Captain."

"This is not our problem," Q'etan shrugged. "It will be picked up by
its House."

"It might die before that," S'to added.

"This is also not our problem," Q'etan replied coldly, making it clear
that he wanted to hear no more questions. He knew that his unusual
behavior in this matter had raised some rumors in his crew, but since
all had profited from the arrangement, nobody dared to ask further.
'Silence makes the house green', as the saying went, and 'he who did
not know anything could not betray anything'.

"Go to it and prepare it for departure. Make sure that it looks as
good as untouched." He smirked about his joke in an amusement that was
not shared by his assistant, as he could see by the glance S'to gave
him on departure. When the bulkhead had closed behind the man, Q'etan
opened a communication channel. It was time to announce their arrival.

---

V'ta, the caretaker of Sarek's estate, was irritated, and his
irritation about this unusual emotion increased it further. Normally
it was below his position to fetch someone from the space harbor, but
today he had been personally ordered by Sarek, and so he now directed
the city flitter through the crowded city on an afternoon that was hot
even by Vulcan standards. Not for the first time he wished for air
conditioning, which he had read about in outworld magazines, but on
Vulcan it was considered decadent. Not that other things weren't as
decadent and nevertheless part of a usual household, he thought
caustically, especially considering a household like the one he
organized, one of the most prominent, influential and rich ones on
Vulcan.

Stirring the flitter hastily through the upper levels of the flight
lines in flouting the traffic rules, he finally arrived at the harbor.
The ship was quickly found; fortunately, it had been cleared already
by the harbor authorities, and so he entered through the open air
lock.

"Someone here?" he called into the dimly lit corridors, frowning on
the stale air and unpleasant smells.

"Yes, S'haile." A man came near hastily, bowing deeply. "What is your
request?"

"I come for the human of the House Sarek," V'ta replied.

"This way, please," the man said and disappeared to the right without
checking if the visitor followed him. The corridors they went through
were narrow and dirty, and V'ta began to wonder who had made the
arrangement. This was not at all what the members of his House were
accustomed to traveling with. On the other hand, this was not a usual
member.

"The man stopped in front of a door. 'Here it is, S'Haile,' he said,
but then hesitated. "There is a problem, unfortunately."

"What?" V'ta asked in foreboding.

"It became ill on the way. We did not know what to do, and so we
simply -"

"Open that door," V'ta ordered sharply. "Now."

The cabin was as dimly lit as the whole ship, and so small it barely
had enough space for the bed that stood opposite to the door. On it a
robed and veiled figure lay on its back, and there was no reaction
when V'ta stepped near and bent down over it, touching it.

"Wait for me outside," V'ta said to the man at his back. He would not
unveil any member of his House in the presence of an ordinary servant,
not even one of such a low race as Terran. When the door had closed,
he uncovered the face. The features under the veil were lifeless, the
eyes closed and the breathing low. It looked ill, by all standards.

"Waterworlder," V'ta said and shook the human more forcefully.
"Awake."

After a moment it opened its eyes and said something unintelligible.
V'ta sighed. Why had nobody told him that this one did not speak
Vulcan? He would have brought a translator with him, had he known.
Kaiidth. He was no physician. The logical thing to do was take this
being home.

The human's cold hands clamped onto his robe, and he took them away,
forcing down the disgust he felt at the contact with moist skin.
Automatically he rubbed his fingers dry on his robe while he stood up.

"Come with me," he said, but the human neither understood him nor, it
was obvious, was able to walk alone. With maximum effort as to avoid
any skin contact he veiled it again and lifted it up. The body was
light, and so he took it in his arms and out of the cabin.

"I will take it with me," he said to the waiting man. "You carry its
luggage. Show me the way to the exit."

They hurried through the corridors, and V'ta took a deep breath when
he stepped through the air lock back into the light. Some immigration
bureaucrats tried to get in his way, but he got rid of them with some
sharp words, and they bowed to his wishes as soon as they noticed the
emblem on his robe. It was not good to be on unfriendly terms with
Sarek's House.

When he finally reached the flitter, he set the human down onto a
seat. It had not moved or spoken any more, and he briefly wondered if
he should drive it immediately to a doctor, but then he decided
against it. He would bring it to the women's house as ordered, and
then it would no longer be his problem.

---

"You seem to await it eagerly," T'Pring said to her Elder Mother, who
stood on the window that faced the main gate since an hour.

T'Opal shrieked on her words, and then slowly turned around, meeting
the younger woman's eyes with a cold glance.

"It is my duty to await its arrival," she replied sharply. Her status
as Sarek's wife gave her the position of the head of the women's
house, and it was on her to organize it. Of course, there was T'Pau,
too, but never would a ruling matriarch have to do with such matters
as room arrangements and kitchen supervision.

"Yes, Elder," T'Pring said, retreating into an obedient stance which
T'Opal was well aware was pretense. They were only 4.3 months apart in
age, and T'Pring had never quite accepted her position in the ranking.
But with T'Opal now carrying another heir for Sarek, while T'Pring was
still failing in her duties as wife of Stonn, the younger woman's
power was decreasing once more. A pleasing situation, T'Opal thought,
and her mood lightened up for the moment. It dropped again as the
flitter with V'ta appeared in front of the gate.

"S'tani, go and help V'ta," she ordered her servant, and the eunuch
left instantly. The two women remained on the window, waiting and
observing the actions that unrolled outside. Finally S'tani returned,
carrying a robed form and a piece of luggage into the house.

As he had set it down on the nearest bench, he looked up to meet their
gazes.

"V'ta says it is ill."

T'Opal pulled the veil away. She could well remember this face, which
she had tried hard to forget; but it had come up in too many dreams,
haunting her. And now it was here again...

"What shall we do with it?" S'tani asked cautiously.

T'Opal pondered over the question for a moment, and then said, "Bring
it to its room."

T'Pring stepped at her side. "Should we not call for medical help?"

"Tomorrow will be sufficient."

The younger woman frowned, but did not debate this statement.

"T'Pau wanted to be informed on its arrival," S'tani said reluctantly.

"Tomorrow will be sufficient for that, too," T'Opal stated coldly, and
waved her hand. "Take it away."

S'tani bowed and lifted up the almost unconscious human, who murmured
something at that movement.

"I do not speak your language," S'tani said, apologizing, and reached
around the slim chest, taking one arm over his shoulder. The human
felt cold to the touch, its heartbeat only a faint, slow whisper, and
the body hung slack in his grip as he led it to the assigned room. The
room was almost barren, and when S'tani laid the human down on the
hard, low bed he wondered if he should inform T'Pau anyway - he didn't
know much about Terrans, but with this low pulse and blue lips and
cold, moist hands, the human appeared to be seriously ill.

Looking around he searched for a tap to give water to the human, but
there was none in this room. And only now he saw the iron bars on the
window, and the handle of the door that could only be opened from the
outside. With a deep frown he stood up, and, after pulling some
blankets over the human's body, he left toward the matriarch's rooms.

---

I'kai held her breath as blue eyes met hers. It had been so long -
there had never been a human allowed to even step over the threshold
of this House after the death of she-who-had-been-Spock's-mother.

"All is well," she said in Standard, trying to remember the little
vocabulary she once had had. "You secure."

"Where...am I?" it asked with a rough voice.

"You are in T'Pau's rooms," she said. "Secure. I am I'kai, servant of
T'Pau."

"Do you have...some water?" Its eyes dropped close again, and she
could perceive its weakness. Stabilizing its head with one hand, she
fed it water with the other, and it drank eagerly. Finally she let its
head lean back into the cushion.

"Why - here?" it asked.

"You were ill. Now you are better. I care much."

"I can see that," the human replied and a smile crossed its face.

She resisted the urge to caress the forehead to touch its salty water.
Instead, she stood up. "I must leave. Will return. You stay here.
Secure."

"I won't go anywhere for a while," it replied weakly. When she came
back later, it was asleep again, but it was a good sleep, just like
Terrans needed it.

---

The human recovered over the next days, and it didn't take long before
it began to ask all kinds of questions, to I'kai's discomfort.

"I tried to open the door," it said when she came on the third day,
"but it was locked. Am I a prisoner here?"

"It is secure," she replied, and when she saw his irritation, she
stepped to the door, waving her hand in the front of an invisible
chip. The door opened. "Secure, for me."

"Ah, you mean, it's encoded for your fingerprints?" it asked and she
nodded. "From both sides? You're the only one who can come in?"

She nodded again. "I am secure."

"But someone else is obviously not," it said with a frown.

She did not answer further. She liked this human who reminded her so
much on the forgotten one, but rumors spread through the house like
le-matyas on the hunt, and people were wondering if the arrival of
this one was a bad omen for the House, a focal point of stormy winds.
Spock had claimed it only in the fever, they said, and Sarek had
trained it for pleasure. T'Pau had not yet seen it, and on her
decision its position would depend in the end. No, it was not on I'kai
to tell this one about the politics in the House. All she would do
would be to care for it until its heath returned. Which would be soon.

"Tomorrow T'Pau will speak you," she said. "You must obey all. This is
important. She is the ruler."

"I will," it said and bowed its head.

A question came to her mind. "What is he like?" she asked.

The human looked up again. "Who?"

"Spock," she said.

Its features softened. "He is..." it searched for words and then began
anew, "I am his."

"How does he look? How does he live? Is he successful?" she asked, but
just as it wanted to answer, she perceived T'Pau's call in her mind.

"I must leave," she said apologizing and stood up.

"He is everything to me," the human said, and I'kai realized that the
similarities to the forgotten one went deeper than she had thought.

---

The next morning another sand storm raged over Shi'Kahr, and hot,
dusty winds embraced the house, rubbing its edges round like abrasive
paper. It was deemed fitting by T'Pau, who was preparing herself for
the two audiences she had scheduled today. This was her Vulcan, she
thought with satisfaction, as she went to her hall and sat onto her
elevated chair: rough, dangerous, and merciless.

I'kai arrived, bowing deep. "Your orders, o matriarch?"

"Call the first one," T'Pau stated, and used the few remaining minutes
to order the wrinkles of her robe into a perfect picture.

T'Opal approached her through the long hall. "You wished to speak to
me?" she said as she stood before her.

"Have Vulcans learned to speak unnecessary words?" T'Pau asked back
coldly, pleased to see the young woman shrink under this blow. She
waved a servant, and he stepped forward, a wooden box in his hands.
When he stood in front of T'Opal, he opened it. And once more T'Pau
was pleased to see her daughter-by-marriage react emotionally.

"What is this?" T'Opal asked, her face faintly bluish.

"These are the hands and genitalia of Q'etan, the ship's captain who
had brought the human here. The rest of his body is on the Forge,
feeding the lematyas."

T'Opal paled. "What was his crime?" she asked finally.

T'Pau signaled the servant to carry the box away. When he had left,
she fixed her gaze at T'Opal.

"He drugged the human and abused it, together with others. He also did
not give it water all journey long. It took little torture to make him
speak."

"Then he has met his righteous fate," T'Opal said flatly.

"He has also said that he was paid richly to do so." T'Pau added
coldly.

"Who would pay for something like that?" T'Opal asked wearily.

"You?"

T'Opal shook her head vehemently, once more supporting T'Pau's low
opinion of Sarek's wife. An uncontrolled being this one was, and not
even the hormonal changes of her pregnancy could account for this
behaviour.

"I did not pay him."

"Someone else might have paid him - but did you plot this?"

T'Opal met her gaze fully. "Why should I do this, o matriarch? It is
only a human." Disgust swung in her voice.

"May it please us or not, it is Spock's ko-adun," T'Pau reminded her
coldly. "You will act accordingly."

T'Opal lowered her head. "Yes, o matriarch."

"You may leave," T'Pau said, and T'Opal wordlessly left after another
deep bow. When the door had closed behind her, T'Pau called for the
human.

---

Shortly after it knelt in front of her, all obedient. It had been a
long time since she had seen a human in this house, and she had hoped
the day would never come again, but alas, Kaiidth. It had the same
blue eyes, but it was not comparable to the other one; even though it
had been trained as ko-adun, its maleness was still visible in its
slim, lean body on which the robe hung loosely.

Normally she would have examined a newcomer by a meld, but she did not
want to touch again the chaotic thoughts of humans, which had made her
feel physically ill in the past. Instead, she decided to interrogate
it, certain that she would be able to read the answers in its face
anyway.

"I have called for you so that you will be taught the ways of this
House, as is necessary for a legal wife," she said in Vulcan. As she
saw his irritated glance, she looked at I'kai. "It does not speak
Vulcan?"

I'kai swallowed hard, realizing her oversight. She shook her head.
"No, o matriarch."

T'Pau felt a small anger spark through her. Men - all they ever
thought about was their pleasure, not their duties. No wonder they
would never lead Vulcan society.

"Bring me an universal translator," she ordered, and seconds later she
began again.

"Human, I have called for you so that you will be taught the ways of
this House. And this seems to be necessary, as your adun did not teach
you what you need to know. You do not speak any Vulcan?"

"No, o matriarch," it replied. Its voice was soft and leveled,
acceptable to her ears even in the hurtful sounds of Standard.

"Do you know about the history of Vulcan and our house?"

It denied again.

"The duties of a wife?"

It flinched for a second before it answered, "tea and food
ceremony...and the art of how to please."

T'Pau frowned. Just as she had expected. Men...

Closing her hands around the armrests of her chair, she said sharply,
"You will be taught Vulcan language and writing, history, and all you
need to know concerning your position and duties in this house. As
Spock's ko-adun you stand in rank behind T'Opal and T'Pring, and you
must respect them as well as follow their orders where the family is
concerned. The rules in this House are strict, and violations or
disobedience will be punished harshly. You may have seen that the
household is parted into a men's and a women's area. No woman may
enter the men's house unless called there. And no man may enter the
women's area."

It nodded in acknowledgement.

"You may leave," T'Pau said, and it left her wordlessly, just as
T'Opal had done only minutes ago.

I'kai stepped to her side when it had left. "It is...acceptable."

"Who are you to speak?" T'Pau said sharply, but then added more
softly, "It is too early to judge it. We will monitor its progress and
effect on our House. I agree that it is not generally displeasing."

Sudden fatigue overtook her, reminding her of the many circles of
T'Kuht she had seen in her life. "I will retreat for meditation. No
audiences for the next cycle," she said, and went to her inner
chambers, leaving I'kai behind to order things. There was much to
think about.

---

McCoy sat cross-legged on the marmoreal floor, trying to read the
cryptic signs that Raneh, the teacher, projected on the wall. In front
of him, the children of the house sat and hastily scribbled onto their
padds. It felt weird to be placed into a school group like this, but
it felt especially uncomfortable to be much slower than the children
were. He had tried hard over the last three days to understand the
basic patterns of Vulcan language and writing, but though he had been
a quick student in medicine, languages had never been his strong side.
And so, not even his nightly sessions with books and tapes had helped
him much yet; on the contrary, they had cost him energy that he lacked
now, and he felt his lids dropping in weariness.

Realizing that Raneh had asked him something, he forced his attention
to the question, and after the fourth repetition he even understood
what it was about. By that time, the children were already whispering
and giving him condescending glances, but he still succeeded in giving
an answer. He tried to memorize the many corrections Raneh gave him,
and finally the teacher's focus shifted again.

Sweat was pouring down McCoy's face, and he used the sleeve of his
robe to rub it dry - another action that earned him glances from the
children. He felt much more alien to them as they to him, he had
realized in the last days. And Vulcans despised outworlders, he had
learned, too. None of these children had ever had contact with a
human, and so that negative view had spoiled them beyond repair,
probably.

McCoy gazed outside, giving up on the unreadable letters on the wall.
The sky was shimmering in several bent layers of blue and red, like a
color-deprived version of a rainbow. But there was rarely rain in this
area; everything was dry, and water was costly, rationed even in this
House where luxury seemed ingrained in ever corridor and hall, where
everything was full of art and costly furniture and splendid
decoration.

His lids dropped again, and for a moment he gave into his weakness. He
was only human after all, wasn't he? He missed Spock more than he
would have ever thought possible - it was as if his soul was calling
into darkness, awaiting an answer that never came, due to Spock's
permanent but necessary shielding. What was he without him? Incomplete
and unprotected, alone in these adverse surroundings.

Someone called for him, and with effort he opened his eyes and shifted
his gaze toward the man that towered over him.

"You do not listen. I will remind you of your duties. Extend your
hands, masu-ek'trai," Raneh said emotionlessly.

McCoy clenched his teeth and raised his palms into the air. The rod
fell on his hands with the hissing sound, biting sharply into the
flesh where the red lines mixed with the various colored marks of the
days before. Some tears escaped McCoy's control, and once again the
children's gazes at him were full of disgust. Ten strokes later, the
punishment was over for now. He was getting accustomed to it, McCoy
thought with fatalism, knowing that there would be many more lessons
to come.

---

Another three hours and ten strokes later, school was done for the
day. As on every day he let the children leave first, unwilling to
feel their eyes on his back on his way to his room. Then he followed,
taking care to look out for them in case they were waiting for him
behind some corner. He would make an easy target, he knew, and he was
not at all sure if any adult would stop them. At the first evening
meal he had shared with the members of the women's house, T'Opal had
told them that newcomer was to be treated with respect as Spock's ko-
adun, third in rank behind herself and T'Pring - but from what he had
overheard over meals during the next days, she had made it equally
clear that a ko-adun was an outdated perversion, and a Terran as ko-
adun an insult to the house, as humans were a soft, weak species.
Nobody came near him, and so he sat at the long table only for a short
while each night, leaving as quickly as possible for his room.

He was just crossing the corner with the shimmering statue of the
Aldebaran god of war - wondering as he did every day if it were
authentic, as in this case it was surely some million credits worth -
when a door opened in his back.

"Masu-ek'trai," someone hissed through the empty way, and McCoy turned
around.

"Sarlah-la," T'Pring said, and moved her hand in an unambiguous
gesture. "Sahris."

"I don't understand," McCoy said wearily as he stood before her, but
she simply pulled him into the room. Like every time he saw her she
was dressed very fashionably with high-piled hair and a thin robe that
flew around her body in a quite revealing way.

"Na phtak-fam," she said when she had closed the door.

"T'Pring, I don't understand you," McCoy said with a sigh. "I am
sorry."

Suddenly she smiled at him. "You had better learn Vulcan fast, or,"
she took his hands into her own,  "Raneh will beat your hands until
they will not work anymore. Which would be a pity." She rubbed her
thumbs over his swollen palms.

"You speak Standard?" he asked, astonished.

"Most Vulcans know some Standard, but we do not like to speak it. It
sounds so uncivilized."

His face must have given him away, as her smile froze slightly. "You
think us to be uncivilized?" She let his hands go and gestured toward
a chair. "Juice? A tea?"

He declined both, unsure if acceptance would violate any rules, and he
had had enough beating for today.

"Our culture is old, much older than Terra," she said, while she
poured herself a glass of pale-red juice. "And thus, many of our rules
are old, too. Everything is hierarchic, and everyone has her or his
place. Even..." Her voice pearled away.

"Even me," McCoy concluded.

"Well," she said. "I have never met a ko-adun before. They are rare."

'It was not my choice,' McCoy thought, but didn't voice it. They stood
in silence for a moment.

"Why did you invite me here?" he asked finally when she had sat down
opposite to him.

She met his gaze through eyes laden with makeup. The jewels around her
neck and dangling from her ears broke the light appealingly. "You are
physician, they say."

McCoy nodded. "I am."

T'Pring's features lightened. "Could you examine me?"

He raised a brow. "Aren't there any physicians on Vulcan?" he asked in
disbelief.

She shook her head. "Yes and no. There are only two female physicians
nearby, whom I do not trust. And a male would not be allowed here."
She fetched one of his hands again, massaging the colored skin with a
certain fascination. "I would be grateful, masu-ek'trai."

"I don't have my medical equipment any more. T'Opal must have taken it
away," he murmured, wondering if her behavior was deliberately so
flirtatious.

"T'Opal," she murmured. "This aylak, tvi'okh. I will talk with V'ta,
he may know how to get it."

"Does she rule here? I thought T'Pau did," McCoy asked.

T'Pring nodded. "T'Pau rules, here in the women's house, and in the
whole family. Her word is law. But she is rarely seen. That you
already have had an audience with her is unusual. I envy you. I have
not spoken with her for a year - ever since my marriage with Stonn."
She sighed.

"How did you and Spock meet?" she suddenly asked. "They are telling
stories...that he had fallen prey to the Burning, and you joined him
freely there."

"That's only half the truth," he said. "Someone plotted against us."
He had not intended to add the latter detail, but somehow his words
had come quicker than his thinking.

"But you and Spock are content?" She was like a child in her open
curiosity, and he was more and more irritated about her behavior,
which was so unlike any other Vulcan he had ever met.

"We are okay," he said, and felt loneliness closing in. No one had
held him in his arms the last nights, and this had left him craving
his bondmate's attention. Onboard the Enterprise, Spock had cared for
him and protected him - here, nobody came to protect him. And he
hadn't yet seen Sarek...Sarek...

"You must leave now, masu-ek'trai," T'Pring stood up abruptly. "I will
solve the problem with the medical equipment, and then you shall
examine me." Seconds later McCoy found himself in the corridor with
the bad taste in his mouth at being used in another game. He sighed
and went along to his own room, unaware of the eyes that followed his
steps.

---

The next days went by quickly. Since McCoy spent every free second on
his Vulcan books and tapes, the beatings became rarer, which was
certainly a good thing for his fingers. They were still blue and
yellow, though, earning him curious gazes from the Vulcans around who
had rarely seen such colors. The children had began to call him "kur-
pu'ulidau", the one marked with colors, and he was not sure if it was
less insulting than masu-ek'trai, the waterworlder. He had a name, but
he seemed not to be a person to them, just a weird alien life form.

It was on another evening when T'Pring called him once again into her
rooms as he passed by her door. She had organized his medical
equipment, and it lay on the table.

"I have already prepared everything, masu-ek'trai," she said
enthusiastically.

"I see," McCoy said and checked the contents. They seemed to be
complete, and he switched on the tricorder, running his hands over the
device almost lovingly.

"With this instrument I can check on many things in your body. But
there is a small problem - I have standard settings for Vulcan
females, but since I have never examined you before, I might not be
able to say if any discrepancies from the baseline are normal for your
body or not."

She nodded and lay back on the bed in a relaxed stance.

He sat down next to her. "What specifically should I be looking for?"
he asked, waving the tricorder over her.

"Specifically?" she asked back.

McCoy twitched lips. "Yes. You have something in mind, don't you? Why
else would you go to such length to get me to examine you?"

She gazed at him, then at the instrument. Finally she said, "I have
not yet conceived the child Stonn and I hope for."

"I see," McCoy nodded and changed to another viewscreen. "The hormonal
levels look normal." He changed the viewscreen once more. "The uterus
and the ovaries appear also to be in good shape." Only when he
examined the general blood data could he find a chemical substance
that was not in his standard setting.

He took the tricorder away. "There is an aromatic organic compound in
your blood, but I don't know exactly what it is or if it's within the
normal range or not. You should let yourself be examined in a real
hospital, where they have much better equipment."

T'Pring sighed. "I will talk about it with my husband, when he
returns."

McCoy stood up. "Is he often away?" he asked while he packed the
tricorder neatly away into the medical kit, finding that this short
moment of just being doctor had relieved his mind from many of the
burdens of the last days. He would ask T'Pring if he could take the
equipment with him, but he doubted it would be allowed.

"Since he is training to become Sarek's successor, he is rarely here
anymore." She stood up and arranged her thin robe before stepping
near. "I feel very much alone, lately."

"I know what you mean," McCoy replied sadly.

She put her hand on his shoulder and caressed him down his arm. "Why
don't we combine our feelings and extinguish them, to our mutual
satisfaction?"

McCoy swallowed.

"I find you very exciting, masu-ek'trai," T'Pring said and weaved her
hands into the hidden front buckles of his robe, opening one by one.

McCoy tried to keep her hands away. "Please, T'Pring, we'll run into
trouble if you pursue this. I'll leave now, okay?" He gathered the
robe and attempted to close it again.

"No, that is not okay, waterworlder," T'Pring stated sternly. She
captured his wrists and turned them on his back, pulling his body
against her. "You cannot resist me."

Held tightly, McCoy's resistance vanished. He just could not break
free from her...from any Vulcan. "What do you want?" he whispered.

"You," T'Pring said. "I want to experience your alien sex." She licked
along his chin. "Your skin is so wet and salty. And so soft."
Releasing his wrists, she brought her hands again to the front and
unfastened his robe completely.

He closed his eyes as it opened and bared him to her view. On his
chest he could feel her hands gliding down to the belt. "It is true,"
she gasped. "I thought it was only a rumor. Is it locked?"

He gazed down onto her hands. "I think so." It had become that much a
part of him that he barely ever thought of it. To not wear it was
unthinkable.

"But that does not make you unable to satisfy women," she said, and
reached with her hands under the robe, brushing the soft fabric down
his shoulders until it landed on the floor.

"You want to satisfy me, don't you?" she said insistently, and
captured his wrists once again, pinning him against the wall.

He was at a loss for words for a moment, which was long enough to
visibly anger her. She turned away and moved over to the bed where she
draped herself on the cushions.

"I have some means to persuade you," she said with a mischievous
smile. She grabbed her dress and tore it open across her breasts,
revealing two pale green nipples. "I will tell them that you attacked
me," she stated. "Unless you do what I say."

McCoy looked down at her, stunned in disbelief. What was it with him
that they all wanted something from him? It completely escaped his
understanding. And it escaped his control as well.

"Come here," she ordered, and with a fatalistic shrug he gave in. In
front of the bed he knelt down, searching a bit of assurance in this
ritual gesture. She reached into his hair and pulled him near.

"Kiss me as Terrans do," she ordered, and he complied. Her lips were
tense, dry and unresponsive - not at all like Spock's, crossed his
mind - and when he pulled back, she looked at him in disappointment.

"This is all?" she asked.

He leaned forward once again and now tried to probe into her mouth
with his tongue, but she averted her face instantly and pushed him
away. "What a disgusting thing," she stated with a deep frown, and
wiped her lips with her hand.

McCoy settled back into the kneeling position, fixing his gaze on the
blanket's edge that was decorated with Vulcan ornaments. In foreboding
he waited for her next action when in his back the door opened. On the
bed, T'Pring rose in surprise. "T'Opal!"

Behind him, McCoy heard the approaching steps. And then a blow on his
back rendered him out of air, a rush of pain cutting through him in
its wake.

"So this is how you honor your bond," T'Opal stated icily. Then she
turned toward T'Pring. "And you, faithless whore."

T'Pring stood up, pulling her dress together. "It was out of control,
T'Opal," she said, pleading for sympathy. "It has torn my dress, and
then it has exerted its alien magic on me."

T'Opal gave her a cold gaze, and said in Old High Vulcan, "You should
return to school and learn about pleasure possessions. It is not able
to get violent on anybody. It is completely compliant."

T'Pring paled, to T'Opal's great satisfaction.

"I will tell Stonn how you spend your time," she added. "He will not
be pleased."

The younger woman's head dropped. "Please, do not tell him, Elder
one," she pleaded. "I will - "

T'Opal cut her words with a wave of her hand. "Silence. We will
discuss this later." Turning to the human, she delivered her sentence
for its failure, as it was her right. "Taflaya setai," she said
coldly, and waved her guards.

And, knowing that nothing would prevent this unearned punishment,
McCoy went with them.

---

The sun was standing high in the sky as they locked him unclothed into
a kind of pillory in the middle of the rear courtyard. His legs were
chained apart by a meter, and his throat and wrists were locked into
the upper part of the stock. If he were to faint, serious damage could
result, and that was likely to happen with the sun burning high above
and the temperatures already up at surely 45 degree Celsius. When he
was securely locked in place, the servants left.

T'Opal moved to face him. "One day, one night, waterworlder," she
stated in Standard, and turned to walk away.

"Please, T'Opal, " McCoy said in desperation. "Protect my skin and my
head. I am not used to this heat."

She shrugged without looking back.

"T'Opal - why do you hate me like this?" he called after her.

This made T'Opal stop. She turned around and faced him. "I am Vulcan.
I control my emotions. You are of no interest to me. This is your
punishment for your shameless behavior with T'Pring."

"And why am I here, and not T'Pring?" McCoy asked.

"She will pay in a different way," T'Opal stated, and left.

It didn't take long for his naked, untanned skin to go through all
degrees of sunburn. His mind felt dizzy, from the lack of water and
the slight sunstroke he already had. Then the sun was falling, and the
heat was quickly substituted by cold. His muscles had stopped cramping
for a while, but now the pain came back, wandering up his locked arms
and down the shoulders over his back to the lower legs. When he sagged
for the first time, the strain on his throat almost suffocated him. He
straightened himself with effort.

What would happen if he died here? It seemed nobody cared a bit about
him on this wasteland; he was rankless, worthless, wordless for them,
a strange animal from an alien planet. Panic rose in him as loneliness
and despair joined in emotional dance. If Spock were here, he would
come for him, care for him. Spock would not really hurt him, did not
hate him like T'Opal did. He blinked as some tears began to crawl down
his cheek, blurring his vision of the dark house. In the distance he
heard the growling of le-matyas, and it was answered by the barely
tamed beasts that strolled around in front of the house. Would they
tear him apart if they could? It would be so easy for T'Opal to get
rid of him...and he didn't even know why she hated him so.

He blinked again as the shadows before him seemed to move and shift,
finally revealing a figure he knew so well. It could not be real,
though - a dream only, a fata morgana evoked by the heat and the sun.

"Spock..." he whispered through lips broken open in the dry heat.
"Spock -"

Lips closed on his, and he leaned into the kiss. Despite his state,
arousal rushed through him like a blaze of fire, turning into a
whirlwind as arms closed around him and pulled him toward the other
one, pressing their bodies together.

"Human," the dark figure said, and only now McCoy realized who it was.

"Sarek!"

The embrace ended, and then fingers brushed through his hair and
caressed his face down to his lips, opening them. He complied
instantly, sweet weakness enfolding his existence. His legs gave in as
this weakness won over him suddenly, but he found he was held, and
then there was water sparkling into his mouth and down his dry throat.
He swallowed madly, trying to catch even the smallest drop. But much
escaped, flowing down his body and adding to the overwhelming
sensations.

His hips shifted to meet the other one as lust made him oblivious to
the increasing strain on his neck from the wooden plank. "Sarek," he
repeated with a moan, pleading less for his freedom than for release
from his arousal. Shivers spread through his body, from the cold, the
madness and the desire he felt.

"I cannot free you," Sarek murmured into his right ear, while the
Vulcan's hands grabbed him tightly, stopping the shivering. "I should
not even be here."

Fingers rubbed over McCoy's enhanced nipples and he gasped on the
contact. "Just touch me, Sarek," he pleaded. "Take me. Take pleasure
from me. Make me feel wanted again." He sobbed from inner pain. "It is
so terrible here."

"I will do so," Sarek whispered, forgetting his own set rules in the
heat of the moment. He had coveted diving in this blue body and soul
again, night after night ever since their parting, and nothing would
stop him now. Walking around him he grasped the slim hips and pulled
the buttocks back until he heard the human choke. The choking turned
to moaning as he centered his penis on the stretched opening,
carefully entering it. He pushed farther until he was buried deep
inside of him, feeling the pulsing of the human's abdomen all around
his penis.

"Yes, Sarek, oh please, go on," the human gasped, pushing back at him.

This plea was more than Sarek could take - all control left him as he
began to pound into him madly, back and forth and back into him again
with all his might. Their joined breathing became haggard over their
movements, pressed in and out with the last efforts of their lungs,
sucking in the thin Vulcan air to steal another endless moment of life
from it. Somewhere in the middle Sarek tried to touch the human's mind
to meld with him, but they were too far already - this time they would
simply burn their desire in and for themselves.

When the waves rushed over him, Sarek pumped into the human's ass,
milking himself down to the last drop with slowly slowing, languid
strokes. And only when the worst fever had decreased in the wake of
this storm he realized that the human had not joined into his orgasm.

"You are not satisfied?" he whispered into the round ear.

"I could not, I just could not...god, I am so horny, please, do
release me, Sarek," the human pleaded.

Sarek stepped around the human again, and kissed him, probing into the
wetness with his tongue. The fever was less, but had not disappeared,
he felt deep over their contact.

"Sarek..." the human moaned into his mouth, shivering in all the
sensations that embraced him.

"Give me your thoughts," Sarek said in a low voice, and touched the
human's temple, entering his mind. Unfulfilled arousal swapped over
the bond that had obviously even increased over his orgasm, and he
searched through the human's mind...so blue, even bluer as it had been
in his dreams...but something had changed here...another connection...

It had been done by Spock, he realized in astonishment. Never had the
idea to block the orgasm of a pleasure possession like this had
occurred to him, but to see it done and working intrigued Sarek and
sparked his arousal to new, unknown heights.

"You cannot reach orgasm without Spock speaking a trigger word," he
said when he left the meld again.

The human was speechless for a moment, his eyes open so wide that they
shimmered in even the little light of this shaded Vulcan night.

"I cannot make you orgasm," Sarek rephrased. "Did you not know that
Spock has wired your orgasm to his will?"

"I had not realized," the human whispered in despair. "I should have
known..."

"The perfect pleasure possession," Sarek said, admiring for once
Spock's ingenuity. "The one pleasure left is the pleasure to be the
tool for another one's fulfillment." He stroked the chest and the
nipples, running his hands along the lines of the ribs to the back and
forth again.

"What an arousing thought," he said and walked around the human again.
"All you will experience is the satisfaction of giving without
getting...offering without being rewarded..."

"It doesn't matter," the human whispered. "Take me again, Sarek. Do
it."

Sarek knew that the human was still hoping for release, for a breaking
of the conditioning, but it was done well - better than Sarek would
have thought possible for Spock. Maybe the half-born was more of his
blood than he had realized. But that wouldn't stop him from taking
Spock's ko-adun once more.

This time Sarek melded them, reaching out for the human's face from
behind while he was entering him. He took him slowly, enjoying all
their joined passion that filled the bond. For a long time Sarek did
little more than gently rock the human, and would have gone on like
this for a long time, had the human not begun to sob, small, unusual
sounds in a Vulcan's ear.

// What is it? // Sarek asked, unable to find a reason in the other
one's mind.

// It is so wonderful that it hurts, // the human replied. // I want
to last it forever but can't bear another moment just as well. //

"Indeed," Sarek murmured and reached around with his other hand,
rubbing the human's nipple. He would teach him what unbearable
pleasure meant.

// Sarek! // the human groaned and pushed back at him, forcing the
cock go deep. This made Sarek stop altogether. The human clung panting
in his grip.

// Did you forget your lessons, human? Whose pleasure is important? //

// Yours. only yours, // the answer came instantly.

Sarek tugged on the nipple and pulled it straight foward, eliciting a
painful gasp from the human.

// Do you know why I do this? // the Vulcan asked.

// Because you can do anything with me. //

Sarek let the nub lose and rubbed over it again, teasing the slightly
swollen flesh. Then he pushed inside the human's body, once, twice,
and stopped once more. It had the desired effect - in his arms, the
human was shivering and panting loudly. He had to silence him, Sarek
realized, and lifted his hand from the nub to the human's mouth,
sealing the soft lips.

// Be quiet, human, // he said, but couldn't resist pushing again,
feeling the aching arousal of his victim. The human's body was molded
against him in sweat, the human's mind was pleading for release in
soundless cries that brushed over the bond and, like touching a harp
in Sarek's mind, made him vibrate in unknown harmonies, too. Over
Sarek's fingers, the human's tears drew lines on the skin before they
dropped on the wooden plank. When the sobbing had diminished in
loudness, Sarek reached around the human's chest again.

// For my pleasure, // Sarek thought, and began to thrust in steady
strokes that soon became erratic as control fled him. Moments later
his climax broke, and he arched against the lean body in his arm,
pulling it as close as possible to enjoy every second of his release
deep inside the human.

Finally he released him, slowly withdrawing his hands in a caress over
the soft skin. He could feel the human's arousal even through the
diminishing contact, but he could not - and also somehow would not
want to - change the situation. After cleaning the human's buttocks
with his robe, he walked around to face him once more.

"I told you so," Sarek said in a low voice, cleaning away salty
wetness from the human's cheeks.

"It's okay," the human replied weakly. "I thank you, Sarek. Thank you
for making me alive again."

"I have to leave now. But we will meet again," Sarek said, caressing
the human for a last time this night before he turned and left.

"I will count the hours," the human replied in his back. "I pray for
it, Sarek. I am yours..."

The voice grew low and trailed off when Sarek stepped through the
connecting gate, determined to make it as few hours as possible.

---

It was exactly 12.4 hours later when McCoy stepped into the men's
house, taking in the surroundings through the openings in his veil. A
servant led him through a complex formation of corridors and stairs,
and finally he was led into a room - Sarek's room. The Vulcan sat at a
desk and turned around on his entry.

"Come closer, human," Sarek said.

McCoy walked forward slowly, his limbs still tired and aching from the
punishment in the stock. A slight fear got hold of him, for as he
stood before Sarek, he was met with a cold gaze.

"Did you forget my lessons, human?"

"No," McCoy said and dropped to his knees hastily, fixing his gaze on
the stone floor.

"It would be easy to remind you," Sarek said and removed the veil.

"I did not forget...I was only...fearful," McCoy whispered.

"You need not fear me, human. You should know that."

McCoy lowered his head even more deeply, trying to convey an apology
by action. "Yes, Sarek."

Sarek stood up and walked around the room.

"I have heard that you do not learn as fast as is expected from you.
Since I know that your profession is a demanding one, I presume that
this problem has more to do with how you are offered information and
what is offered to you as motivation."

The steps stopped some meters away. "I have decided to address the
problem. Stand up and come here, human."

McCoy rose from the floor and found that Sarek stood next to a low
desk that was well equipped with technical devices.

"Here you will find material about Vulcan history and society. Various
dictionaries are at your hand, and I expect that you will make good
progress. Sit down, human."

McCoy sat cross-legged down on the cool floor and touched the gift -
and it was a gift, compared to the technical equipment in the women's
house, at least his equipment there.

"I will monitor your progress each day you are here, human. When you
satisfy my standards, I will reward you. If you do not..."

"I will not disappoint you, Sarek," McCoy murmured, fixing his fingers
happily on the small keyboard with dual Standard and Vulcan lettering.
Voice input was a hard thing when one didn't speak the necessary
language well, and that had impeded many of his attempts to retrieve
information from the schoolroom databank.

The Vulcan stood behind him, patting his head softly. "Begin with the
time before S'Task. This is a good way to learn more about us Vulcans,
how we became what we are today."

McCoy found the disk instantly and put on the earphone, listening to
the explanations that came with the animated 3D images on the screen.
Soon he forgot about the man behind him as he drifted deep into the
fascinating information that was conveyed to him now.

---

Sarek brushed through the human's hair for a last time and then
retreated to his own desk, amused by the human's eager learning. He
was well aware that the human was in T'Opal's disfavor; the stock had
not been used as punishment device for more than 8.4 years, and to put
the human into it had endangered his very well-being. Unfortunately,
Sarek had very little rights over the women's house, an area closed to
him. But to summon the human here into the men's house for additional
lessons was a sensible solution to many problems. T'Pau's orders had
been clear - the human should be integrated into the Vulcan society as
much as possible, so that the House would not be disgraced by mistakes
of its unwanted, but existing Terran member. And that was what Sarek
did now by giving the human a better chance at reaching that goal.
That other pleasures were made possible by this arrangement was an
agreeable side effect, especially while T'Opal was using her pregnancy
to retreat from his wishes. Yes, he was sure that the following weeks
would be interesting.

---

"Your answer is correct," Raneh said, and heartfelt relief rushed
through McCoy at avoiding another round with the cane. The knowledge
he had gained in the afternoon lessons in Sarek's room was more than
helpful...and the tests in the end of the day more than arousing. The
last two weeks had gone by on fast forward, and he had came back to
life in that time. Just thinking about what Sarek did with him made
the heat rise in him and let him hope that he would called to him
again this afternoon. Not that reciting the Vulcan constitution while
being taken from behind was all that easy, but it was surely engraving
the knowledge into his brain for all time. The endless list of Vulcan
matriarchs had been harder, as with every faulty repetition Sarek had
increased the level of the nerve stimulator. Only at 8 of out 10 McCoy
finally had it right, gasping the last name while coiled on the floor
in pain. But the following reward had been more than worth the effort
and had left him satiated and relaxed in Sarek's arms.

Raneh asked another question whose answer McCoy delivered in correct
Vulcan, his still audible accent the only reminder of his true
heritage. A high number of errors in his speech could cost him an
uncomfortable hour of kneeling on a spiked plate, which had greatly
enhanced his language memory. Flawless sentences, on the other hand,
gave him hours of pleasure at the Vulcan's hand. Striving for
perfection he studied night and day, craving to make Sarek proud of
his pupil. And in the hours in Sarek's bed, he craved just as well to
please this man, giving himself to the Vulcan and serving him in
unrequited obedience.

When he had left Sarek yesterday, the Vulcan had hinted that soon he
would experience something special, and he couldn't help wondering
what might happen to him. But whatever it was, he would not fail
Sarek.

---

T'Opal walked back and forth in front of the big door that led toward
the rooms of the matriarch. She has asked for an audience that was
granted in principle, but one never knew how long T'Pau would let one
wait for it. At least she could use the time to think her
argumentation through again.

Her steps took her in front of a mirror that hung a bit to the side,
and she gazed at her image; she looked good, even with the
unmistakable roundness of pregnancy that showed under her wide robe.
She proudly touched her belly - the pregnancy had changed many rules
for her, temporarily, and she made good use of those changes, playing
with the powerful possibilities.

There was only one remaining thorn in her flesh, and it ached daily at
the sight of the waterworlder's blue eyes over the table. She needed
to get rid of it, get it away from Sarek who had distanced himself
from her ever since their stay on the Enterprise. Hopefully, the
matriarch would see her reasoning and take steps to send it back to
where it belonged - at the side of the half-blooded bastard.

"You can enter," a servant said, and T'Opal walked down the corridor
to the public room with measured, controlled steps. T'Pau stood next
to the window when she entered, and T'Opal lowered her head
obediently.

"I greet you, o matriarch, and thank you for this moment of your
time."

"Come here," T'Pau said without answering the greeting. T'Opal walked
to the window and gazed outside. Two male lematyas were joining in a
rough mating dance in the middle of the backyard, their orange-colored
sexes rubbing against each other violently. Their groaning resounded
against the wall as they brought each other to fulfillment, and thick
semen spurted out, wetting the sand and their dark fur.

"That is the male spirit," T'Pau said with disgust. "Cherishing the
fancy of the moment, not thinking further than the next pleasure."

Another le-matya came near, and it was a female by the shape of its
ears and the white coloring on its back. It drew toward one of the
males, licking the semen away. Then it disappeared and returned again
with a piece of meat in its jaws that it offered the male, visibly
bribing it. The male ate happily, forgetting about his former
companion in pleasure. In the end, the male left with the female.

"This is the female way, taming the male beasts by means that are much
more sophisticated. This power lies within the physical plane, and is
so much stronger, if used sensibly and with care."

For a moment, silence hung between them.

"O matriarch -" T'Opal began.

"You are dismissed," T'Pau said, turning her back away from the window
and the young woman on her way to her desk.

T'Opal gasped. "But I did not even tell you why I asked for this
audience."

"You know all you need to know," T'Pau stated. "Leave now."

T'Opal pulled up her long robe and left wordlessly, not able to
control her anger once she was in the corridor. Of course she had
understood the lesson - T'Pau would not help her in any way. It was on
her to find the fitting solution to her problem.

---

"Relax," Sarek whispered at his right side, but that was bit much to
ask from McCoy in his current situation. Arms chained in his back and
gagged and blindfolded he sat next to the Vulcan in a flitter that
took him toward an unknown destination. The robe was open in front of
him and his bare legs spread to the sides, Sarek's hand resting on one
thigh. Deep down in his abdomen, a dildo pulsed regularly, adding to
the shivers that went through his body.

McCoy had been called early to Sarek today, the usual school lessons
dropped. To his surprise, he was first thoroughly shaved and cleaned
in the sonic shower, then rubbed with lightly scented thin oil from
head to toe. When all had been to Sarek's satisfaction, the restraints
had been added and robe and veil closed over everything.

And now he sat here, the louder humming of the flitter telling him
that they flew fast and probably overland. A small fear tried to raise
its voice, but all in all he was sure that Sarek wouldn't do him any
harm. Not Sarek.

He gasped behind the gag as Sarek shifted and rubbed over his left
nipple with the other hand

"Today," the Vulcan began, "you will be introduced to an elect circle
of men I will share you with. You will obey my every word, human, and
you will obey the other Vulcans as well." A finger circled around the
implant. "Disobedience will be punished immediately, and since most of
them never had the pleasure of using a human before, they would be
eager to see such things, I presume."

McCoy's breathing went sharply through his nose at the warning, his
throat tight from the image of himself failing in front of other
Vulcans. He knew there had been Vulcans watching him in the past, on
board the Enterprise, but the audience had been familiar and small.
This here sounded definitely different.

The finger lightly tapped on his nipple, eliciting another gasp from
him. "You are the main attraction tonight, human. Do not disappoint
me."

McCoy shook his head. He would do anything to avoid Sarek's
disappointment in such a circle.

"Very well," Sarek said, and turned away, removing his hands.

The flitter slowed down and halted, the rear door opening with a small
hiss. Wherever they were, it was far away from the noise of the city;
no sound could be heard besides the usual growling of le-matyas in the
distance.

"Get out," Sarek said, and McCoy flushed in realization that the robe
was still open, but then struggled to leave the flitter, the cloth
tangling around his legs in the effort. In the end Sarek lifted him
out and placed him on his feet. Then he turned him around.

"Bend over," he said, and McCoy did as ordered. The robe was lifted
and the dildo unlocked and removed, which left McCoy with an odd
feeling of emptiness within. But knowing Sarek he was sure that soon
he would be filled again with other things.

He was pulled upright again, the robe still open, letting hot midday
air bathe his front.

"This is for your security," Sarek said and fumbled at McCoy's
necklace. A small metallic sound made its way to the human's brain,
and then he was pulled forward on a leash. With uncertain steps he
followed the Vulcan.

"Just walk, I will warn you of any obstacles," Sarek said, and so they
slowly made their way over a concrete path.

"Beware, three steps," Sarek said suddenly, and McCoy blindly raised
his leg, relieved when his foot found the stairway. He climbed it, the
pull at his neck a steady reminder of the connection to Sarek. Other
voices could be heard now, all male, all unintelligible for McCoy, and
they quickly came closer as the floor changed to roughly polished
stone.

"Stop," Sarek ordered suddenly, and McCoy froze in his movement. The
robe and the veil were removed, and he relaxed slightly in the cooler
air of these surroundings.

People closed in, and only the knowledge of Sarek still holding his
leash and thus being very close to him prevented a major panic in
McCoy. He swallowed hard as clothes brushed over his body, obviously
unintentionally, but intimidating enough in his state of helplessness.

The Vulcans' speech seemed unusually animated to McCoy, but he
couldn't understand a single word. Perhaps it was Old High Vulcan or
some upper class dialect, but whatever it was, it left him totally in
the dark about the men's plans, adding another layer of insecurity.

"Come with me," Sarek ordered in a low voice. They walked through a
kind of corridor, by the sound of it, and Sarek regularly greeted
people on their way. Finally they stepped over an elevated threshold
into a warmed, audibly more populated room. Voices, music and the
characteristic sounds of cutlery on dishes weaved a layer of sounds.
At his entrance, however, the voices ceased and then died as
everyone's concentration shifted toward him.

McCoy would have vanished into the floor if he could, but Sarek forced
him forward, ignoring the small resistance McCoy dared to show. They
walked straightaway into the room, cooler tiles refreshing McCoy as
they obviously reached the very middle...though distances and
directions were hard to tell blindfolded.

"Stop," Sarek ordered once again, and then removed the leash, leaving
McCoy completely without orientation and support for a moment. Tension
crawled up from his chained hands to his shoulders, making breathing
harder than it already was due to the gag. Forcing his increasing
heartbeat to remain at a lower level, he inhaled steadily,
concentrating on the many unusual odors in the room.

The connection between the wrist cuffs was opened and locked again in
front of him. Then his wrists were raised up and chained above his
head, stretching his arms to a still comfortable level. Suddenly the
floor moved, and he gasped, all his former composed stance crumbled by
the hitting reality of being totally at their mercy. He clamped his
grip around the chains until the floor was steady again. And then he
understood - they had raised a platform so that he was now standing
elevated, allowing an optimal gaze for any viewer.

Murmurs raised and diminished again as the music stopped and a very
deep voice spoke up, probably a kind of introduction. And then he
stood there, waiting and waiting, his fears diminishing and rising
again in cycles. Logic told him that nothing bad would happen, but
then, who was he to hope for logic here in the middle of this room?
Anything could happen, and they could do anything with him. Only Sarek
could protect him here, take care that he would survive this...

An endless time later, the floor shifted again, and McCoy clamped his
hands around the chains once more, seeking whatever small support he
could find against the feeling of his whole self drifting into
insecurity. He shrieked at the feel of hands on his arms, unable to
control a tremor.

"All is well," someone murmured in his ears, and it was Sarek. Feeling
the Vulcan's arm around his chest McCoy sagged into the embrace for a
second. He was led to a kind of matress that lay on the floor, and
ordered to kneel down its edge.

"I will unchain your wrists and remove the gag," Sarek said at his
side. "But you will not speak, only if asked to or in case of an
emergency. Do not disappoint me, human."

McCoy shook his head lightly, and then was released from the two
restraints. He took a deep breath, only now realizing how much his
body craved oxygen in the now hot and damp air in the room.

"Drink this," Sarek said, and McCoy felt a glass on his lips. Eagerly
he swallowed the lightly sugared liquid, and whispered a very small,
very grateful thanks that Sarek obviously didn't mind.

"Crawl forward until you feel a body," someone else said, and McCoy
fumbled forward on all fours, now almost feeling like a kid grasping
for a birthday gift. An irrational impulse to laugh rose in him, but
he fought it back. Suddenly there was soft skin under his right hand,
and he reached out further, finally understanding that it was a woman,
lying spread-eagled on her back.

"Lick her," he was ordered, and he let his hands wander upwards to the
region of the labia. They felt unusual, hard and irregular. He felt
toward the middle then. That appeared relatively normal to him, and
more confident he crouched over the body and lowered his head down.
She tasted pleasant, and he let his tongue brush over all three
elevated nubs that shivered under the contact. Forgetting about his
situation he concentrated on his duty, licking and sucking the woman
until muffled gasps reached his ears.

Suddenly there was someone behind him, and hands grabbed his hips,
stabilizing him as he shifted his legs and gave free entry to his
backside. He placed his palms on the mattress next to the woman's legs
so that he would still feel her thighs, and then the man behind him
rubbed a slicky substance over his anal entry. He had a hard time
pursuing the licking now, as heat spread through his body at the
arousing touch. A finger probed him, finding no resistance on its way,
and so it was substituted by a hard penis that was slowly pressed in.

McCoy forgot to lick for a moment, unable to control his heartfelt
moan on being filled like this. But this earned him an instant painful
stroke on his ass, and he hastily bent down again, realizing that it
was a kind of test, too. And so, while he was claimed from behind, his
tongue and lips claimed the woman under him, rendering her to a
quivering mass of soft flesh.

The pounding became harder, more forceful, and his bent arms ached
under the contra pressure he had to keep up, but every small pause in
licking earned him another painful stroke until his outer thighs
burned. He could barely breathe anymore, but he felt the woman near
her climax now, and sucked roughly on the three nubs. Her muscles were
tensing and he knew that she would -

"Kroykah!" someone yelled, and McCoy froze over her body by a command
he hadn't even realized he knew. And then the man on his back came in
a violent climax, filling him with hot seed while still pumping into
him. McCoy whimpered as he felt his own arousal unreleased. It didn't
help it that he knew it would be that way - it was just as frustrating
every time.

He could barely hold his head upright anymore, shoulders and back and
legs and arms drained from all energy for the moment. Fortunately the
man withdrew and pulled him back onto his heels, where he sagged
heavily breathing, clamping his hands on his thighs.

In front of him he still heard the woman's moan, which then turned
into a choked gasp for whatever reason. But she didn't matter to him
anymore; all that he could think of was the burning need in his own
body and the thirst in his throat.

"Come with me," Sarek's voice sounded in his ear, and he was lifted up
and supported to a cushioned bench where he was allowed to lie down. A
cup of water was pressed into his hand, and he drank slowly,
cherishing every single drop.

"Your performance was satisfying," Sarek murmured at his side, and
McCoy felt himself blushing at the compliment. "Very satisfying," the
Vulcan repeated, and McCoy heard the undertone of pride in the dark
voice.

Blindly he reached out to find Sarek's hand, and wordlessly he let his
fingers travel along the palm and up to the long fingers. It was an
unusual gesture for him, but he felt like doing it. Instantly a strong
hand captured his fingers in their position, forcing them to yield.

"Don't ever do this again," Sarek stated in a low voice, and McCoy,
not knowing what his fault had been, only knowing that he had
dangerously trespassed, nodded.

He drank some more water and was allowed to rest longer, sprawled on
the bench. Listening to the sounds of the room now, he heard more
gasps and spanking sounds, and he knew there were many more like him,
only here for the pleasure of their masters. It made him feel
comfortable and strangely fearful at the same time. This circle was
well versed in this kind of orgy, and that meant that they had
probably tested every strange sexual technique that the universe
offered. What was left in the end were only the most exotic or most
extreme practices...

Deep down in his abdomen, a well-known pressure increased, and he
moved his head to indicate that he needed to get in contact with
someone.

"What is it?" Sarek asked calmly, obviously sitting on his left.

"I've got to pee," he whispered.

Next to him a discussion spun between some Vulcans so quickly that
McCoy couldn't understand them. But he understood when Sarek took his
hand and led him onto the cold tiles that he guessed to be in the
middle of the room.

"Here?" he whispered in disbelief. "Sarek, please, no -"

"Shhh, human. We want to see it. Vulcans do not relish watery body
fluids usually. Only one of a thousand females is able to do it, and
those were held in high esteem in the past, as they are able to rescue
their family from dying of thirst in the desert. A certain fascination
has remained thus."

Sarek drew him into a standing position and drew back. Other footsteps
approached and ended at McCoy's front.

"Spread your legs," Sarek ordered, and McCoy complied warily, all too
aware of the gazes he felt resting on him. All other sounds ceased as
he again became the focus of the room. "There is a bowl between your
legs. Urinate, human."

"I can't, Sarek," McCoy pleaded. No matter how much he had wanted to
go to the toilet before, in this position he just couldn't urinate, in
front of everyone.

"Silence! Do not disappoint me," Sarek said sternly. "You will do it.
Now."

McCoy tried to forget about the watchers, but he couldn't. All was
blocked, and his abdomen cramped under his tension. Whispered words
were exchanged in the round, and then someone called something,
causing a Vulcan kind of applause in the room. Seconds later McCoy was
pulled to another point in the room. His wrists and ankles were fixed
to the side, spreading him wide. Then the faint sound of metal on
stone told him that the bowl was placed between his feet again.

"We have time," Sarek said. "Sooner or later you will release your
fluids."

"We can make it sooner," a younger voice said. "Let us feed it."

"Feed it," several agreed with barely hidden amusement, and instantly
a bottle was pressed to McCoy's lips. It was a kind of fruit juice
that flowed into his mouth, and he swallowed quickly, but it came too
fast. The liquid came into his nose and out of his mouth's edges,
spilling all around. Fighting for air he tried to roll his head to the
side, but hands grabbed his hair now and forced him to drink on. And
only when the bottle was empty did they release him for the moment.

"You will stay here until you urinate," Sarek stated, and then he
left.

From this moment on, time went like in slow motion for McCoy. He was
fed about ten different liquids, sometimes in a friendly way,
sometimes roughly. A few liquids were mixed with alcohol and burned
their way down his throat, forcing some tears into his eyes. But most
were simply juices of some sort, one even tasting like a mix of apple
and kiwi. Whenever he was fed, others touched his body, exploring the
unusual guest. Some licked his sweat away, obviously fascinated by the
moistness of his skin; some touched him barely, rather taken aback by
this quality. His nipples were examined as well, fingers rubbing over
them until they felt abraded. And a few were curious enough to kiss
him, to glide their tongues over his lips. He was like a zoo animal
for them, a new part in a collection. And he was here for their
amusement only.

The pressure in his bladder increased, and he realized that he
wouldn't last long, but it ceased to matter to him. In the end, his
abdomen was so tense that the muscles cramped when he tried to pee.
With a moan he pushed his body to let the liquid flow, and it poured
out of the holes of the belt. At his feet, the Vulcans reacted with
excitement, touching the belt and his hips and obviously also the
wetness that pooled around his feet now. Wave over wave pulsed out of
his abdomen, and he was torn between shame and delight at the sounds
of the men around of him. His own moaning resounded in his ears, and
only when the last drop had left him did his tension release. He
relaxed in his chains while between his legs they were still touching
the wetness, rubbing the fluid over his skin and their own. Tongues
glided over his inner thighs, licking the salty water away.

"The next time, you will do it when I order it," Sarek's voice
suddenly whispered into his ear from behind.

"Yes, Sarek," McCoy nodded weakly. He felt fingers massaging his back,
and then his ankles and finally the wrists were freed. He tumbled when
he lost the stabilization, but Sarek caught him easily around his
waist and guided him back to the bench. There, towels rubbed over his
skin, drying the stains away.

Someone came near and talked to Sarek, and something in their way of
speaking told McCoy that this discussion was about him, so when his
hand was grabbed and pulled, he followed without hesitation. They
stopped at some kind of table, where he was lifted and lowered into a
sitting position on its edge, then pressed back to lean on the soft
surface. The surface was short enough to let his head fall over the
upper, cushioned edge, inclining his head into his neck.

He wasn't surprised either when a penis rubbed over his lips while
down at his groin another one paved its way inside of him.

"You can touch it," the man near his head said, and so he blindly
reached for the stiff member and closed one hand around it, rubbing up
and down and ensuring that his little finger shifted over the double
ridge regularly.

"Very good," the man said, and McCoy, happy and encouraged by these
words, reached around with his other hand to fondle the sac. The man
beside him exchanged some words with the one at the end of the table,
and they joined in a quiet laughter.

"You are eager," someone else whispered into his ear. "A quality to
cherish."

No answer was necessary, and McCoy wouldn't have been able to answer
anyway, as both men entered him in unison, filling his body from both
sides. After a moment of choking he forced his throat to relax and
swallowed the hard cock deeply, giving into the sensation of the
double penetration. They took him slowly, and his head began to swim,
arousal like electricity tingling through his body. A part of him
wondered if there was a kind of mental connection between them all,
but when his senses drowned in the heat that rose in him, thinking
ceased. He was nothing more than a shivering piece of flesh, yawning
to be filled by hot thick semen from the men around him. And that was
exactly what they did; when the first were done, others took their
places, taking their turns on him. There was no pain, no fear, only
endless arousal and a blazing haze of wanting, and he craved every
single one of them.

He didn't know how long it took and how many it had been in the end,
but finally it was over. His drained body was lifted and brought back
to the bench he knew already, where he once more was rubbed dry and
fed with water.

Every limb felt like lead, but in a pleasant way. His body tingled
from head to toe and his skin felt hot and pulsing, still yearning for
contact, for someone to hold him. But knowing better than to ask, he
simply let himself drift into the shady worlds between reality and
dream, wondering what might come next, sure that it wasn't yet over.

He knew he was right when he was pulled down onto a mattress next to
the bench by strong hands. There he was rolled on his stomach and felt
a heavy body leaning over him before he was entered again. He had
never been so wide and slick before, and arousal drowned him again as
the Vulcan pressed into him. Then the man closed his arm around his
body and rotated them together, so that McCoy ended up lying on the
man's chest. He was held tightly, the hard shaft still locked into
him. Someone else was touching him on his thighs, spreading his legs
to the sides, and then another penis' head was centering on his entry.

"Too much," he gasped in fear, but the man didn't listen to him. The
second shaft entered him very slowly, stretching his anal muscle to
the edge of fissure. Moaning he tried to get free, clamping his hands
around the arms that held his chest captured.

"Do not fight it, human," someone said and took his wrists, locking
his arms above his head. Fingers touched his melding points - Sarek's
fingers.

// Let them take their pleasure in you. //

The pain decreased as this thought flooded McCoy's mind, claiming him
for the one thing he was here for. It was all for them, because Sarek
wanted it this way. It was his destiny to open himself for their
pleasure.

// I am proud of you, // Sarek's mind conveyed to him, and he closed
his eyes and gave himself over to the ride. Never had he been filled
like this, and the two men under and above him adjusted their strokes
to each other, pushing and pulling in the same rhythm, rubbing along
his muscle and prostate and each other's shafts in long, measured
movements. Above his head, his arms were still held tightly by Sarek
whose other hand now entered his mouth. He sucked on the fingers,
joining the rhythm of the men that claimed him. Being consumed in
every possible way, he felt like floating, his mind drifting away.
Then suddenly something was bursting in him, and a flash went through
his brain, making him arch like a stretched bow against his captors'
grips before he fell into darkness.

---

When he noticed his surrounding again, the blindfold was gone and he
was floundering in a large bathtub filled with hot water, in which
some herbs gave a pleasant smell. He let his hands sweep through the
water in disbelief, evoking small waves that swashed along the edges
of the tub. Such a bath was unbelievably expensive and luxurious by
Vulcan standards.

"A gift, human," someone said and he turned his head to meet Sarek's
gaze. The Vulcan sat a meter away on a chair, the robe lazily opened,
a wine glass in his hands.

"For me?" McCoy whispered.

"Yes," Sarek said. "Your performance was very satisfying." He took a
gulp of the auburn beverage and then placed the glass on a nearby
table.

McCoy looked down on the water surface, blushing on the compliment.
"Thank you."

They sat in silence for a while, until McCoy met Sarek's gaze
cautiously. "Would you join me in this bath?"

The Vulcan raised a brow. "This is for you to enjoy."

"I would love to enjoy it with you," McCoy said simply.

Sarek gazed at the bath with a visibly mixed expression, but then he
stood up and opened the robe. His penis was half-erect, and swung
slightly when he came near, evoking in McCoy the urgent wish to please
Sarek like he had never pleased him before. But fearing a rebuke for
his desire, he lowered his gaze to the water's surface.

The Vulcan cautiously stepped into the bathtub at the other end, and
lowered himself into the water.

"It is...acceptable," the Vulcan stated after a moment.

"It is probably very rare on Vulcan," McCoy said.

"Indeed. I have only bathed like this two times in my life. Usually,
it is too much waste for a small pleasure," Sarek said.

"Then I thank you doubly," McCoy murmured. "It is a wonderful gift for
me, and I would like to give you something back for it."

Sarek gave him a hooded gaze, and then leaned back into the tub,
stretching his legs out and to both sides of McCoy.

"You are allowed to demonstrate me your ideas."

"Thank you, S'Haile" McCoy said earnestly and shifted to his knees.
Then he slid his hands under Sarek's hips, lifting them easily out of
the water. Crouching forward he placed his knees under them for
stabilization before he lowered his head to take in the still-soft
member. It hardened quickly under his sucking, and he played around
its head with his tongue while his hands caressed the Vulcan's inner
thighs.

Sarek let him pursue what he was doing without interference - he even
closed his eyes under the soft administrations, relaxing under the
arousing touches.

McCoy gave his best in pleasuring Sarek, increasing and decreasing the
intensity of his sucking and stroking, taking the Vulcan with him on a
very long, slow route to orgasm. He knew he was playing with him, but
all he wanted to do was to give him the gift of fulfillment tonight.
He wanted to be the one to satisfy this man, to extinguish all other
men or women Sarek might have encountered tonight. It was egoistic and
possessive, but he wanted it with all his might. Claiming Sarek as his
own was what pushed him forward now, making him ignore the cramps that
built up in his legs and the tired muscles in his back and the aching
in his jaws. And the small shiver in the Vulcan's body told him that
what he did was effective and appreciated. His hands rubbed upwards,
massaging the taut stomach and chest, touching the flat nubs. Fingers
stroked along his arms, and he knew they were Sarek's and he pleaded
that they would close around his arms and hold him so tight that they
would join and become one.

Between his lips, the pulsing cock finally tensed and quivered and
then it shot its load deep into his throat. He eagerly swallowed like
he had swallowed so much tonight, but this time was different - this
was the man he cared for and who cared for him.

A hand brushed through his hair as he licked away the final drops.

"Human..." Sarek murmured softly, and let his body drift away from
McCoy's knees and into the water again.

They sat in silence for a while before they finally left the cooled-
down water.

Drying his body with a large towel, McCoy walked around the room,
finally taking in the decorative style of it. Suddenly he saw the
small oblong opening in the wall and he leaned forward to gaze
through. A long, slim person was kneeling on all fours on the floor,
arms and legs chained to metal rings. Its face was half hidden by a
mask, and from the muffled sounds McCoy deduced that the person was
gagged, too. Three Vulcans were around the captive, using it for their
pleasure.

"This has been the one you licked," Sarek murmured into his ear from
behind, and McCoy shrieked from the interruption. But when he wanted
to turn, Sarek captured his upper arms.

"It is allowed to watch for us," Sarek whispered, and they stood there
for a while, watching the erotic show in the other room. Sarek's arms
closed around McCoy in a tight, but comfortable embrace.

"Does she always wear this mask?" McCoy asked in a low voice, unable
to restrain his curiosity.

"Yes," Sarek replied, equally low. "Actually she had been a warrior on
the planet Teri'h. When Vulcan occupied it, she was caught and given
to our general, the man right next to her head now. All he wanted was
her oath of obedience, but she didn't want to give it to him. So he
restrained her and took her with him to Vulcan. The mask is like a
blindfold, and the mouthpiece a gag that can be changed in the level
of opening. She has not been allowed to say a single word or to see
her surroundings since her arrival here, as far as I know."

McCoy remembered the unusual forms his tongue had explored. "And she
is also belted?"

"Yes," Sarek replied. "Women of her species can only climax by
stimulation of the clitoris equivalent."

"Why does he do that to her?" McCoy asked, realizing that there was a
simple answer to it, but wondering if it was that simple.

"He will free her the day she will give her oath to him, to obey him
freely for all time to come. First, he tried to force her by pain, but
then he realized that lust is a much stronger weapon over time. And so
he keeps her on edge, and sometimes, like tonight, he will ask her in
the throws of passion if she will give in and submit to him."

"And she always says 'no'?" McCoy asked, his eyes fixed on her lean
body that shook under the impact of a Vulcan's assault.

"Until now, yes. It is seven point four years since her arrival. I
think in a way they both succumbed to the pleasures of this game,"
Sarek murmured.

McCoy shuddered. "It's unbelievable how she could resist for so long.
I cannot even think of how I would do it."

"Everyone has a different destination, human," Sarek said and pulled
McCoy around, away from the opening. "And your way is not resistance
but compliance." The Vulcan caressed his face and then said, "It is
time for us to leave. I will not chain you again, but you must wear
the blindfold, as you are not allowed to see the circle members."

McCoy nodded, relaxed and content.

It didn't take long for them to leave the location and to return to
Sarek's house. Only there the Vulcan removed the blindfold, and McCoy
saw that it was high time for their return, as the sun had already
vanished behind Mount Seleya.

"In two days again, human," Sarek said softly as he dropped McCoy off
at the gate of the woman's house.

"I look forward to it, S'Haile," McCoy said obediently, and then
swiftly went into the women's area, reaching the dining room just in
time for the evening meal. Tonight, the Vulcans' cold gazes didn't
matter to him - oblivious to them in his inner feeling of total
contentment, he ate and drank and finally disappeared into his room,
where sweet dreams would await him tonight.

---

The cramps began the next midday after school; the headache and the
fever followed shortly after. And since McCoy fell ill in his own
room, nobody noticed it until the evening meal when his place at the
long table stood empty. S'tani found him on his bed, bathed in cold
sweat and nearly unconscious. This time, T'Opal instantly summoned her
female healer.

"Aushfa tow," the healer stated after a first survey. "Animal fever".

"Can humans get this at all?" T'Opal asked from her secure position in
the door, T'Pring behind her.

 "Obviously," the healer said. "We have to quarantine it. It will
probably die - there is no treatment for this."

"I see," T'Opal said, and so McCoy finally ended as she had planned it
for him from the beginning, locked into a room far away from anyone
else. Water and food were placed beside his bed, and then everyone
left, leaving him to his fate.

---

Deep down in his feverish mind, it took McCoy a while to register that
nobody came to help him. Coiling from the pain he lay on his bed for
two days, all cloths soaked first with sweat, then with urine and
finally with everything his bowels delivered, but he was unaware of
anything but the sickening smell that penetrated the hazes of the
illness after a while. He tore his clothes then, his damped thinking
processes failing to deliver another sensible solution. When the fog
lifted, he moved to the bare floor, unable to stand the smell and the
remains on his skin that made him feel dirty. Little water was left in
the jug next to his bed, and it too was already beginning to smell,
deteriorated in the heat that had made the germs grow so fast that by
now they had built a slick layer on water's surface. He tried to drink
it anyway, but his stomach threw it up instantly, adding another sour
smell to his terrible, humiliating world.

Just when he had given up the hope that someone would ever come for
him, the door was opened, revealing S'tani and T'Opal, standing at a
secure distance. He opened his clotted eyes to them, and could see
their faces twist as they took in the smells and his appearance,
crouched at the wall furthest off the bed, dirt all around and on him.

"It still lives," S'tani said, brows rising. "It seems the healer was
wrong."

"It seems so, yes," T'Opal nodded. "Clean it and accompany it to his
rooms," she ordered then and left hastily, visible relieved to escape
the situation.

McCoy tumbled to his feet. "S'tani..."

But the eunuch held a secure distance, unable to hide his disgust.
"The bathroom is over there," he pointed out and gave the way free,
opening the other door.

McCoy tried to walk, but his legs didn't want to keep him up, and so
he fell to his knees in the door. "Please, S'tani, help me," he
whispered with a failing voice, but the Vulcan didn't move. In the
end, McCoy crawled into the bathroom on all fours, collapsing under
the sonic shower.

At least S'tani had activated the shower, McCoy thought as he awoke
again from the blurred darkness to find himself clean and fresh under
the shut-off shower, the room empty.

S'tani entered. "I brought some clothes," he said and gave them to
McCoy who had risen from the floor.

---

Only with S'tani's help did McCoy reach his normal room, where he
tried to relax and recover for some hours. In the evening, he forced
himself up for the evening meal, knowing that he needed the food that
probably would not be delivered to him if he didn't come for it on his
own. He sat down and ate slowly to give his stomach time to adjust to
food again. As he did every evening, he ignored the people around
himself as long as he could, but the discussion finally drifted toward
his illness, the possible reasons, and his mysterious and unexpected
recovery.

T'Opal looked at him over the table. "As long as we don't know what
the reason was, you should be very careful what you get into contact
with," she said maliciously, and a penny dropped in McCoy's head. The
people around him gave him the Vulcan equivalent of a sneer, and his
still-hurting body tensed under the knowledge of being at her mercy.

Sarek, he needed to talk to Sarek, McCoy thought, and on his hasty way
out of the room he caught S'tani at the sleeve, pulling him into the
corridor.

"S'tani, I need to talk to Sarek, instantly," McCoy said with a plea.

"This is not possible," S'tani said, shaking his head.

"Why not?" McCoy asked, feeling naked panic rising in him. "Did T'Opal
forbid it?"

"No, she doesn't need to," the eunuch replied. "Sarek has been away
for two days now because of urgent business on Deneb V."

"Deneb," McCoy repeated blankly, remembering that Deneb was more than
five days away from Vulcan, even with a warp ship. "Did he say when he
would return?"

"No-one here can predict when he will return," S'tani replied, and
then added sympathetically, "Be careful, waterworlder, do not cross
T'Opal's path anymore. She is your enemy."

"As if I hadn't realized that," McCoy said, sagging against the wall
in defeat.

---

The memories of the pleasurable, fulfilling time that McCoy had had
with Sarek and under Sarek's protection over the last weeks soon
vanished under the bitter reality of his life, now that T'Opal had
control over him once more. The smallest trespass on his part earned
him severe beatings at the hands of her servants in the middle of the
main hall, as if he were a servant himself. All pretense of treating
him respectfully as Spock's ko-adun was gone, and he was despised by
everybody, being served spoiled food and sour wine. His room was
locked at night, and he was under surveillance all day, not being able
to take a step without her knowledge.

He did the only possible thing and tried to become invisible, hiding
in his room as much as he could, although he knew that it would never
be enough for her.

Then Stonn came home to Vulcan, eagerly awaited by T'Opal and totally
feared by T'Pring who knew that her fate lay in the hands of her
stepmother. She was right to expect the worst - a day after his
arrival, T'Pring hobbled into the dining room, blushing to deep green
as everyone's eyes turned toward her. McCoy guessed that it was her
punishment, but closed his ears to the crude jokes that were exchanged
over the table and for which he lacked half the vocabulary anyway.
T'Pring wore the humiliating ankle chain for two weeks, and her former
snappish attitude crumbled to pieces over it, a victory for T'Opal
whose mood rose to unknown heights.

And when McCoy finally got to know Stonn, it was exactly in the way he
had feared most.

---

He entered a large room that looked like Sarek's on first sight, until
he took in the tasteless art that was generously distributed over the
room. Taking refuge into grounding habits, he sank down on his knees
next to the door, dropping his gaze to the floor, hands resting on his
thighs. Steps closed in and ended right before him. His gaze came to
rest on brown leather boots.

"So this is the waterworlder everyone talks about," a dark voice said
in guttural Standard. Fingers ran over McCoy's hair, but the touch was
without finesse, merely the gesture of an arrogant master to an animal
that should content itself with the crumbs from the table.

"Undress," the Vulcan ordered.

McCoy wearily complied, letting the robe glide down to the floor. The
fingers traveled over his shoulders and rubbed over the necklace, and
what seemed to be a small laugh escaped the towering man.

"You are Spock's, and you are Sarek's, and tonight you will be mine,
too."

"Please, let me go," McCoy whispered.

"Shhh, what makes you think I am interested in your wishes?"

The fingers closed into his hair, and with unyielding force McCoy was
pulled into the middle of the room, his metal cuffs scraping over the
floor. At the foot of the bed Stonn let him go, and he fell flat onto
the tiles, gasping in pain. His defenses vanished as the Vulcan closed
the cuffs behind his back and lifted him on the bed onto his stomach.
Then Stonn bent his legs and shackled the ankle cuffs to the wrists,
stretching his legs and arms painfully. Nevertheless McCoy moaned into
the cushion as hot fingers clumsily stroked over his buttocks, unable
to fight the arousal that crept up his spine.

"Ah, I knew you were horny, waterworlder. Terrans are kobat sre, hagik
ara'i..." the Vulcan murmured along, but McCoy didn't understand the
words. All he knew was the heat rising inside of him. His legs were
pressed apart by a body that shifted between his knees, and there was
no preparation, no stimulation for body or soul, all there was was a
hard Vulcan penis centering on his anal entrance and pushing forward
without hesitation.

McCoy gasped under the deep, penetrating strokes with which the Vulcan
tore into him, his heavy weight pressing his hands and feet down on
his back. When the hot liquid filled his groin he moaned, wishing
again for the release only Spock was able to give him.

"You think of him?" Stonn murmured as he withdrew. "You had better
think of me while you are here."

He turned McCoy to his side, padding his cheek. "Now, did you like
it?"

When McCoy didn't answer at first, Stonn slapped him. "Did you like
it, waterworlder?"

"Yes," McCoy whispered. "Fuck me more, please." Was it really he,
saying this? He didn't want Stonn, but then, he wasn't asked either
way. It was Stonn's right to use him...wasn't it?

The Vulcan didn't need encouragement to take his pleasure in McCoy's
body, and after a while McCoy's head swam from the adrenaline and the
endorphins that Stonn's harsh treatment brought to full flow. He had
stopped moaning long ago, accepting his usage by withdrawing into
himself.

It was already night when Stonn finally released him. He was allowed
to shower and then donned his robe and veil. On the door, Stoon
awaited him, looking him over.

"All in all, I do not know what they find in you, waterworlder," the
Vulcan said disdainfully, and McCoy's world changed in momentum from
these few words, staggering in its move and finally coming to a
crushing halt, crumbling into thousand bits. A servant led him back to
the women's house, and he followed, unable to focus on one of the many
shattered thoughts that whirled in his mind now like pieces of a
puzzle he didn't know the motive of.

---

The next day McCoy sat cross-legged on the marmoreal floor, ignoring
the texts that Raneh projected on the wall. In front of him, the
children of the house sat and hastily scribbled onto their padds, but
his mind was elsewhere. His gaze rested at the floor, taking in the
grain of the stone while his mind tried to grasp the memories that
still tumbled around unordered, too little to compose the full
picture, too many to ignore their importance. Something about the
past, about Spock, about Sarek...there was something that he had to
deal with...

Someone called for him, but it wasn't Sarek but Raneh, once more
raising his cane over him, ready to punish him for whatever the
teacher thought justified.

"Extend your hands, masu-ek'trai," Raneh said emotionlessly.

McCoy clenched his teeth and raised his palms into the air. The cane
fell on his hands with the hissing sound, biting sharply into the
flesh that had healed over the last weeks. New red marks formed on his
palms, and he fixed his eyes on them, wondering why they hurt much
more than usual. Eight, nine, ten...but Raneh did not stop this time.
Fifteen, sixteen...McCoy looked up in irritation, seeing the Vulcan's
face, his teeth clenched in...emotion...?

He looked down on his hands again. Twenty-three, twenty-four...hot
pain seared through his palms now as the beating caused more serious
wounds. His medical knowledge began to categorize the damage it would
to do his blood vessels.

He looked up at Raneh again. Twenty-six, twenty-seven...it hurt like
hell and why did he let this man beat him like this? He had never been
asked for his consent... He rose from his seated position, and Raneh
stopped midways, his arm high for the next stroke that would never
come. McCoy hit him into his face and then his chest, drumming his
fists into the other man's body without any clear thought. Through the
corners of his eyes he realized that the children gasped at him, but
all he could really focus on was to hurt Raneh, to pay him back all
the pain he had gotten for nothing. He beat the surprised teacher
until the Vulcan faltered and fell to the floor.

"Anyone wanna say anything?" McCoy rasped into the room, but the
children ducked deep, shaking their heads wordlessly. Clutching his
hurting fists for a second, he ordered his thoughts as much as it was
possibly in this frenzy that was clearing his fogged memory. Could it
be...he was...? He gazed down at the neat metal cuffs that closed
around his wrists without a visible lock. He was...a slave? He
clutched his head, grasping for straws. It had been Sarek's doing, he
could remember. But what exactly had happened? He needed to know...he
needed more information. In a sudden decision he left the schoolroom
for the library that was on the lower floor, and he tumbled down the
stairways, ignoring the astonished gazes of the servants he met.

The library was large, with books and terminals, and for a second he
just stood at the feet of the tall racks, crushed by the sheer volume
of what he would have to search through. But then his anger rose
again, and he began read along the book titles. Despair followed soon
after, and he began to pull books out of their shelves in haste,
discarding them to the floor.

He almost overlooked it, but then he saw the title and grabbed it,
opening it with the feeling that the explanation for his actual
situation could be found here. And he was right.

---

"I haven't called for you," Sarek said astonished, when the door to
his living room opened to reveal T'Opal.

"I thought I should greet you as a wife should greet her husband when
he returns after a long journey," she said and drew near. The robe was
only loosely closed with a girdle, and the sides split open with every
step, disclosing her bare breasts and the round bulge of her
pregnancy. She extended one hand toward Sarek and he took it tightly,
but without the usual caressing of fingers.

She frowned. "Will you not touch me as a husband should touch his wife
after long absence?"

Sarek looked her over from head to toe, realizing what she had come
for - and realizing that he did not want her. Her breasts were full,
filling with oily milky liquid that leaked out in small drops, which
spoiled the robe. Her belly was big and round and bore such an
intimidating impact of feminity that Sarek inwardly recoiled from it.
He had always preferred lean, slim women, like the masked playmate in
the orgy, but lately it had even changed once more - today he
preferred the leanness of men. Of one special man, who stood on the
very border between the genders now by looks and demeanor.

"Let me please you, my husband," T'Opal whispered, gliding her hands
into his robe and opening it. "I have not felt you for many weeks, and
is it not said in the marriage vow that man and woman shall share
their bed regularly, to avoid jealousy and hurt between them?"

Sarek frowned, knowing very well that the vow went in both directions
- it was his duty to satisfy her, too. He had better get started right
now and get it over with.

"Yes, my wife," he said composed, and led her toward the bed, where
she lay back into the cushions with a hint of carefulness she had not
had before. Her very female features were like an intrusion into
Sarek's world, but he fought his disgust down and opened her robe,
taking her body fully in. The breasts were full enough to drop to both
sides by their weight, destroying the former pleasing symmetry her
breasts had shown. She looked like the eternal mother, the female
power that ruled over men not by simple force but by guarded and
hidden means. And he felt his breathing becoming harsher as he fought
for control over his impulse to withdraw. His shields were still up,
and it was good that way.

She reached for his robe and pulled him to her side, misreading his
agitation. "Let me please you," she said again and caressed a path
down his naked chest. He let her do this, unable to reciprocate for
now. Her hand ended between his legs, where she found...not much.

"My husband, are you ill?" she teased softly. "I have never known your
potency to fail."

"I am still tired from the journey," he murmured. "I have not even
unpacked my luggage."

"In former times, you immediately called for me after a journey no
matter how long it had been," she said, a hint of hurt in her voice.

"In former times, you accompanied me on my journeys," he replied.

"It is your son I am carrying. Will you punish me for this?" she asked
with a deliberate look.

"No, my wife" he said, and willed his penis to stiffen under her hand.
It would be no good if rumors were to arise in the house about lost
virility. He closed his eyes and let his hand drift over her body,
taking in the dry skin and the roundness that both felt so unlike to
another one.

Their fingers caressed each other now, and the bond tried to open, but
he held the shields up.

"Will you not allow me entrance?" she whispered at his side.

"My control is weak from days spent in the company of a telepathic
race," he stated.

"I do not mind if your control flees you," she said, and rolled to her
side, pressing her full belly against his. In a rush he stood up,
unable to fight the disgust now.

"I apologize," he said roughly. "It had been a straining journey, all
in all. Our enemies do not sleep - holding the reins took a lot of
energy this time." He walked to the table with the nourishments and
took a cup of water, swallowing it hastily.

T'Opal sat up, drilling her gaze into his back as he could well
perceive.

"It is not your journey," she said icily. "It is not the fight for
power, which drains you, but your feelings for the waterworlder."

"I do not have feelings for him," Sarek replied coldly.

"It is 'it', Sarek. Not a man. Not a woman. It is nothing but a
genderless, weak Terran plaything, exactly what you wanted it to be."
She stood up and moved over to him, touching his upper arms with her
palms lightly. "It has no will, no power, no choices anymore. Is that
what you want in your bed, Sarek? You told me differently in the past,
when we talked about our future, the future that could make the both
of us the rulers on this planet. You were pleased to have a wife at
your side that showed an interest into your work, and had an opinion
of her own. You have changed, Sarek."

Sarek looked down at his hand that clamped tightly around the cup.
"The human is just a pleasing distraction," he said sternly. "Like a
fine meal or an animal race, nothing more."

"Then turn around and tell me what I am for you," she stated.

Sarek briefly closed his eyes, then placed the cup on the table and
turned toward her. "You are my wife," he stated and met her eyes fully
- this way he at least would not see the heavy breasts that hung over
the round belly. "And soon-to-be-mother of my son. I do cherish you."

"Show me how," she whispered, stretching out two fingers. He took
them, allowing the bond to open enough to show her some carefully
chosen images of detachment, and she reciprocated his images with her
own.

A knock on the door ended the intimacy, to Sarek's relief. "What is
it?" he asked the entering V'ta, registering T'Opal's frown at the
disturbance.

"S'Haile, the human has gone mad and attacked the teacher. Now it is
in the library. What shall we do with it?"

"Arrest it and bring it to me immediately. Do not harm it," Sarek
ordered.

V'ta left, and Sarek met T'Opals eyes again. "I have business to
attend to, wife," he said softly.

"Business?" she growled. "Business and pleasure, Sarek, come in handy
for you lately." She pulled her robe together and closed the girdle
tightly over her belly. Then she turned and left without another word,
her back radiating anger and telling him that she would not let this
defeat go unavenged.

---

Only seconds later other footsteps arrived, and the human was led into
the room by two eunuch guards. And though he looked calm on the
outside, a wave of emotion swapped into the room and over their
connection, intense...hate.

"Leave us alone," Sarek ordered the guards. They nodded wordlessly and
left, closing the heavy door in their wake. Silence fell over the
Vulcan and the human for a moment, and then McCoy pulled a book out of
one sleeve.

"Did you use that one?" McCoy asked roughly and threw it onto the
floor. The title shone in silvery Vulcan letters that roughly
translated to "Concise Guide to the Training of Pleasure Possessions".

Sarek looked down on it for a moment, and then an amused smile
appeared on his lips. "An interesting literature, is it not, human?"

"What did you do to me, Sarek," McCoy said, and he knew his voice had
lost the sharpness from a moment ago. He just couldn't shout at Sarek
when the Vulcan gazed at him like this...he couldn't...but he needed
answers.

"Why did you do it? Was it just for your perverse fun that you turned
me into your plaything?" he asked more quietly, forcing his anger to
persist.

Sarek looked at him steadily, but remained silent.

"Damn you -" McCoy wanted to shout, but his voice sharply dropped in
volume "- green-blooded bastard," he hissed through clenched teeth.
"You can no longer manipulate me! I've broken out of the golden cage
that you've put me in, so fuck off and leave me alone!" Pulling his
robe up, he vehemently turned around to leave the room

"Stop," Sarek said behind him, and he froze in the middle of his
movements.

"Turn around."

McCoy felt how the order subsided in his mind, entangling in his newly
found determination. Closing his fists he remained with his face to
the door and fought to leave with all his might.

"Turn - around," Sarek repeated slowly and articulatedly.

"I - will - " the 'not' died on McCoy's lips as he realized that he
had already turned. On the other side of the room, Sarek stood unmoved
as before.

"Undress."

He didn't want to, but it seemed irrelevant, as his hands found their
way to the clasps of the light robe, opening one small buckle after
the other. He took a deep breath and ordered them to stop. "I - will -
not -" he gasped, feeling pain in every single finger as he clamped
them into the sides of the robe to prevent the undressing.

Sarek looked at him, his dark gaze piercing deeply into his eyes, and
it felt as if a sword were cutting through him. The Vulcan didn't even
have to repeat the order - McCoy's robe fell down to the floor only
seconds later.

"Do - not - do - this," he growled in despair, when he felt how his
emotions seemed to be drained away and damped again by the force of
his Vulcan dungeon master. If he were to lose this time, he would be
lost for all time, he was sure. He had to fight him.

"Kneel," Sarek said, and he felt the cold stone floor under his knees
only instants later.

"Oh god," McCoy gasped, summoning the last traces of anger and hatred.
"Why, Sarek? Why are you doing this to me?" He closed his eyes and
clamped his hands into his thighs, moving back and forth in inner
pain.

The sound of steps made him open his eyes again, and as he saw that
Sarek was approaching him, he raised his hands as fists. "Don't come
near," he forced out of his dry lips. "Don't - come - near."

Sarek stopped. "As you wish," he said dryly, and opened the right side
of his robe, pulling something out of its dark depths. He threw it
toward McCoy, and it blinked against the stray sunlight as it
scratched over the surface, a painful sound that seemed to stay in the
air even when the dagger had come to halt right before the human's
knees.

"Take it," the Vulcan said, and once again barely hidden amusement
shone through his words, which took nothing away from the power of
that order.

McCoy's breathing became harder as he once again tried to disobey, but
his shivering hand reached out for the dagger, and he watched his
fingertips run over the rough surface of the handle, watched them move
along the engraved Vulcan symbols there until they had closed around
it. He looked down on the dagger in his hand in open panic now.

The steps closed in, and he raised his head. Through his watered eyes
he could Sarek's intimidating figure coming near, step by step
blocking more of his view. Dark shades fell over him as Sarek finally
bent down in front of him. Lowering his head right over the dagger's
tip, Sarek looked at him wordlessly.

"Get away from me," McCoy pleaded, and fought to raise his hand, just
one single inch would be enough, he had to succeed, he had to defend
himself, he had to...he had...

His hand dropped down as Sarek withdrew. A warm touch danced over his
face, distributing the tears that were running freely now.

"I love to play with you, human," the Vulcan said softly. "I love to
train those like you. When we are finished, you will be a happy human
again, satisfied, relaxed -"

"I don't want to be happy," McCoy gasped, the dagger trembling in his
hand. His whole existence seemed to tremble with it. "I want my anger.
I want my freedom of choice!"

"Even if you had stayed in misery day after day for a lifetime, which
would have been your prospect, had I not come to you and trained you?"
Sarek asked with a rising brow.

"This would at least be my misery," McCoy sobbed, pressing the fist
that clenched the knife on his chest. "Mine, dammit. I want to be
myself again. I want to choose!"

"I can end your misery, human," Sarek stated. "Just with a small
order, I can end your whole existence." McCoy felt a hand caressing
through his hair, combing through the long strands. Then Sarek stepped
back toward the table, looking out of the window. The sudden light
made McCoy blink and close his eyes.

"Slit your wrist." The words were hanging in the air, making their way
slowly into McCoy's mind.

"What?" he wanted to ask, but his voice was failing again - all that
came out was a small gasp. Around the dagger, his fist tightened. And
looking up toward Sarek, he could see that the Vulcan didn't even turn
his head toward him.

"Take the dagger and cut the artery on your other arm," he heard once
again, and it was an order, and he knew that he had to fight it or to
die, Sarek would let him die here and now just to prove that he could,
he had to fight -

The metal touched his wrist; how warm it was, a part of McCoy mused,
as his eyes followed his trembling hand, and another part mused if the
wound could be repaired if he cut it shivering like this, and if it
would hurt much and if -

The dagger sliced through skin and vessels and down to the bone, and
then darkness embraced him so fast that he didn't even feel anymore
how his body collapsed onto the stone floor.

---

Sarek reached down and took the dagger out of the human's fingers. He
traced the sharp, shimmering blade with his fingertips. "You did not
even shed a single drop of your blood, human," he said in a low voice.
"You fainted from the images I sent into your mind - how can you
believe you could ever escape my control again?"

He put the dagger away into its hiding place in the robe. Then he bent
down again and took the limp body into his arms and carried him to his
bed, where he carefully lowered him on the mattress. Ah, how this
small scene had aroused him; it had been a long time since any of his
playthings had been like this, so resistant, stubborn, even finding a
way around the conditioning. He had to see what it was in this one's
mind that made the difference, and he would eliminate it.
Unfortunately he had not a week for this task as he had had on the
Enterprise, Sarek reflected as he locked the human's wrist cuffs to
the upper corners of the bed. After shedding his robe and laying it
onto the chair, Sarek grabbed a cushion and put it under the human's
groin, before he pulled down the chains that hung upon the bed. He
lifted the legs to connect the other cuffs, thus spreading them into
the air and allowing him an easy entrance into the human's body.

He would have to hurry more than he cared to - to meld with this one
during a quick intercourse, to connect pleasure, helplessness and
obedience once again in the human's world - but he could not change
this now. And a part of him did not even want to go slower, but forced
him all along toward the fulfillment of his pleasure. The battle with
the human's spirit had made him so hard that it was even painful; as
he looked down at himself, he could see the blood pumping along the
green veins into his organ, which yearned for release. And his mind
yearned to delve into the watery softness again, to drown in this blue
ocean.

Sarek leaned back and took a deep breath. Control, he had to control
this, he had to remember the teachings. The human's conditioning had
to be repaired, the waves cooled down to a smooth plashing. And he had
to find out why this one had been able to remember. Determinedly he
pushed one finger into the human's body, and was pleased to find the
opening stretched and relaxed. His penis had leaked enough fluid
already to ease entrance; he would not have to wait longer.

Leaning over the tightly bound human, he entered the body until his
penis was sheathed completely. After arranging himself for optimal
positioning, he lifted his right hand and touched the human's face,
entering a meld.

A whirl of emotions sucked him into the blue shades, and at the same
time fought to keep him out and away, but it was so easy to cut
through the ridiculous defenses.

// And it had never been hard in the first place, // the human
suddenly realized. // You only ever played with me...you could have
done this on the Enterprise, too. //

// Yes, // Sarek's mind agreed. // All your training was for my
pleasure. //

// You unscrupulous bastard // the human moaned, and Sarek let his
amusement flow freely now.

// I have no qualms, human. It is a pleasure for me to walk through
your mind now and to form you again according to my wishes...//

// I will...remember...// blew through the halls of thoughts in weak
defense.

// All you know you will know because your master allows you to know
it, // Sarek's burning mind answered, and the Vulcan felt the
intensity of his lust swap through them both like a firestorm. It
burned through the tangerine nets of the human's brain, leaving black
traces behind as he severed and unlinked some memories, and
reconnected the wiring of a pleasure possession again.

// All you feel, you will feel because your master wants you to feel
it, // the formula blazed over watery images, distorting mirroring the
flames above.

// What is your pleasure, human? // Sarek asked, his thoughts like
thunder.

// My pleasure...it is...it is...// yours // yours // yours //

The word echoed through their joined mind, was reflected and doubled
and multiplied until it drowned all other thoughts, flooding the
human's world together with the pleasure of his master as hot fluids
seemed to pour into his whole existence, and his world was whole again
and he knew his place again at the feet of the one that would own and
protect him.

Breaking the meld, Sarek rolled away from the human and down the bed
onto the floor. Ah, what... lust. What emotions. He needed this one.
This one was so special, so different. And his mind so marvelous, so
liquid; it had not overcome the conditioning, but like wave functions
it had tunneled through it, had found its way out, though damped and
weakened. Would Amanda's mind have been like this, Sarek mused, if she
had not been in his proximity all the time? He felt faint regret over
the lost opportunities with her, but she was long gone, and he would
have this one to share his bed now.

A moan from behind him reminded him of his victim, so Sarek rose and
sat down next to the human who had opened his eyes.

"My ma-vel'sanosh," Sarek said softly and caressed the face that was
still wet from tears and sweat. "All is well, I shall do you no harm."

A small smile lightened up the face, and their gazes met for a second
before the human dropped his eyes again. "Do as you please, my
master," he whispered.

"I shall, indeed," Sarek said. "It is time to finish your training."
He leaned toward the bedstand and fetched a blindfold and a gag.

The human remained relaxed. "I am proud of you," Sarek murmured as he
fastened the blindfold around the human's head. "Open your mouth," he
then ordered, and the human complied instantly. When the gag was
tightly in place, Sarek unlocked the ankle cuffs and lowered the legs,
fixing them on the bed's edge again. At last he fetched a small key -
the one single key he had not given to Spock. He unlocked the belt and
called for V'ta.

---

When the caretaker entered, Sarek was dressed again.

"V'ta, you will prepare the human for castration."

V'ta looked at him in astonishment. "S'haile, this is your son's ko-
adun - Spock has the final word over -"

Sarek waved his hand, cutting V'ta's speech. "Do not be concerned
about this, my servant," he stated coldly, and with a deliberate
warning in his voice. "The human has still too much male spirit, and
castration needs to be performed soon. He has already fallen back into
old habits." He gazed piercingly into the eyes of his servant of forty
years. "Or do you intend to disobey my orders, V'ta?"

"No, S'haile," V'ta said and quickly bowed to ease his master's mood.

"Then begin," Sarek said flatly, and took a glass of red wine. He
nipped on it while he watched his servant's actions. From a medical
viewpoint, castration was easily accomplished. But it also still held
a certain ritual element, so it always began with the application of
As'ha cream, which had a sedative effect. Then a thin metallic rope
was tightened around the genitals to circumvent blood flow into the
area. Over hours, it was tightened more and more until it almost cut
into the skin. Sarek had once read that this was a common method used
to castrate animals on Terra, and he had found the comparison quite
fitting - what else was a pleasure possession but a pet.

The sharp and completely unexpected sound of the comm unit cut through
the silence, and even Sarek startled for a moment; then he moved
toward it, carefully aligning the monitor away from the bed. It was
T'Pau.

"O High Matriarch," Sarek said, "what occasions this call?"

"You will visit me," she said.

"Later this day -"

"Now," T'Pau said, and all the weight of her power and influence hung
in this single word.

All Sarek could do was to nod. "I will come to you, Matriarch." He
switched off the line and turned toward V'ta. "Proceed with the
preparations. I will be back soon." He gave a last glance to the tied
figure on the bed. "Very soon," he murmured, and left.

---

His aunt was in bad mood, Sarek knew instantly when he entered the
hall of the matriarch. Usually she greeted him on normal level, but
today she sat on her chair, ten steps above floor level. He walked
down the long hall with his gaze trained on the violet carpet until he
reached the stairs. There he stopped and knelt down, bowing his head
down to the ground until his forehead touched the carpet, which was
still soft after hundreds of years. A fact that never failed to
astonish him.

"Sarek, son of Skon, you are here today because I, the matriarch, the
ruler of this house, have called you."

He held breath, keeping his uncomfortable position - she had not given
him such a cold opening for twenty point three years.

"Look at me," T'Pau ordered, and only now he dared to rise and meet
her gaze.

"You have brought shame on this house," she said icily. "Not for the
first time. But I have stood quiet while you brought the first human
into this house. I had thought that it would burn out your fancy for
the waterworlders, but I thought wrong. Then I came to know that you
had trained her as your pleasure possession, and I was ashamed that
the position of a legal wife of this house was soiled like this. I
took great care that your next wives were Vulcan, in the hope of
keeping you away from your own foolishness."

Sarek clamped his hands into each other in the sleeves of his robe,
shocked by her blunt words and the anger he could perceive under her
frozen features.

"But once again I have thought wrong. Now you have not only trained
Spock's ko-adun before their claiming, but you have even used it here,
cooling your fires in its water. I am disgusted by your behavior,
Sarek. And it has already caused Stonn to behave the same."

T'Pau rose from her chair. "I will not let another legal wife become
the sex toy of this house," she thundered. "I will not allow that you
or anybody else will use it for your pleasure freely, and take
advantage as you like. I would rather cast you out before I let this
house fall apart by the dissoluteness of its present generation!" She
struck her scepter so hard into the floor that Sarek could hear the
crack of stone. Then she sank down again into her chair, taking a deep
breath.

Sarek closed his eyes briefly, knowing that his fate was on edge - any
wrong answer could mean the loss of all power. A verdict of ostracism
could not be taken back, and the outcast was a fair game from that
moment on. Rarely did the banished one even reach a shuttle port to
leave Vulcan alive...

"I regret my actions, o matriarch" he finally said quietly. "Tell me
what I shall do to pay for my faults."

T'Pau gazed at him through hooded eyes for a while. Then she swung the
scepter up and placed it on her lap horizontally, closing her bony
fingers around it.

"You have a connection to his mind?" she asked.

He lowered his head. "I have," he admitted, knowing that this fact
alone was a major breach of custom.

"It will be severed," she said coldly.

"Tomorrow, I -" he said.

"Instantly!" she thundered. "The healer is already waiting in the next
room. You will go to him when I am finished with you."

Fighting the feeling of humiliation, he took three deep breaths. Then
he looked up again. "What else do you order of me for compensation, o
matriarch?"

"T'Opal will stay with her family until the delivery of her child."

Sarek almost gasped. When his son and possible heir was not born in
the family estate, he would belong to T'Opal's family, and thus be
outside his sphere of influence. "But -"

"Your unworthy behavior has caused her pain and spoiled her mind. She
has poisoned T'Pring on a regular basis to prevent conception," T'Pau
stated. "I will not allow her return before T'Pring has conceived and
delivered an heir."

Sarek clasped his hands into the robe. This could mean years without
his wife, and although his affection for her had diminished over the
last months, she was still important to him, with her quick mind and
great political sense.  But he knew better than to ask for mercy here
and now.

"What will happen to the human?" he asked.

"It will be sent back to Spock," T'Pau said. "You will not see it
again for a long time. And you will never again lay your hands on it.
You will swear that by A'tha, Sarek!"

He sagged in defeat. His heart burned for this one, but he realized
that it had been a dangerous obsession that had taken hold on him,
almost destroying his house and costing him his position. Not even
this one was worth that...not even this blue, blue mind. Determinedly
he extended his palms toward the matriarch.

"I swear by the god of war, T'Pau, I will not touch Spock's ko-adun
ever again."

She slowly nodded, not for a moment lifting her gaze from him.

"I accept your oath," she finally said. "If you break it, banishment
will be the price. You are dismissed. The healer awaits you in the
enclosure."

Sarek stood up and stepped backwards for half the hall, then turned
and entered the enclosure. It didn't take the healer long to break and
seal the connection, leaving Sarek with an odd emptiness within.
Finally he was allowed to leave, and he hastily walked over the yard
and into the men's house, climbing the stairs to his rooms in
foreboding. When he entered the bedroom, it was empty, only the
outlines of a body on the bed a faint reminder of what had passed only
one hour before. And Sarek lay down on the bed in despair, knowing he
had lost his soul.

---

The End