The BLTS Archive- Assault without Batteries by Agincourt (agincourte@geocities.com) --- disclaimer: Paramount. they own all. I own nothing. I ... am a worm. --- Seven was unamused. The cargo bay, once her private domain before moving in with Kathryn, was a mess, and she had orders from her Captain to make it starfleet ship-shape. Busywork, no doubt, to keep Seven out of her hair for a while. That she more resented than the task itself. "You look busy." It was Torres, watching from the doorway with amusement. "I am." "You also look pissed off. Want to talk about it?" B'Elanna said, letting the cargo door slide shut behind her. "I would rather not." Seven said, effortlessly lifting a radioactives container and placing it on the grav-sled. At least she didn't have to lug it all by muscle power. "Well, since I outrank you, I don't see how you have any choice in the matter." Torres sat on another container, hands on knees, eyebrow raised. "Is this just an attempt to arrange a tryst? I do not have the time. Captain Janeway gave me two hours to return this cargo bay to it's original condition." Another rad-container was lifted onto the antigrav sled. "Perish the thought." Seven paused to look at her. "Perhaps when my task is complete." "I wouldn't want to take up your valuable time," Torres grinned, "but I'll be in our quarters." She rose with a wink, and left Seven alone in the room. "Well," Seven huffed, "You could have offered to *help*." --- "Well?" Janeway asked. "She's not pleased. But I think she's going to be in the mood when she gets home." "Good. That's good." "Yup." B'Elanna sat at the dresser, and began brushing her hair. "What about you?" "*I* have to take Chakotay's shift. He's sick again." "What a lightweight. That means you'll miss all the fun." "Sorry." Janeway shrugged. "Get it on tape for me?" It wouldn't be actual tape, of course, but that was still the terminology. "Always." --- The door opened, and the quarters were dark. This could mean only one thing, Seven knew, but there was no escaping it now. She would have to go in. She stepped in, slowly, and let the door slide shut behind her with a foreboding swish. There was no sound, or warning. She was tackled from the side, thrown bodily across the room. As she lay on the thin carpet, she could hear a steady, heavy breathing. Seven considered fleeing into the bedroom, but she had barely twitched in preparation when she was struck savagely across the face. She whirled around, and crashed again to the floor. She lay very still, as a tiny drop of blood trickled from her lips and down her cheek. "I ..." She began, but did not continue, when she felt a strong hand grasp her skintight uniform, and pull her off the floor. She reached out to grab the arm, but too late. Again she was thrown, this time through the open door into the bedroom. It always began this way. She felt no fear, even as the menacing figure stood silhouetted in the door. She only felt thankful that her jumpsuit was not one she was particularly fond of. Seven would survive this, but the uniform would not. As if on cue, the shadowy figure moved close to her, and with a swipe, ripped the front of it open, revealing her breasts, but leaving no scratches there. Seven saw the momentary distraction, and lunged forward, catching the figure across the ridged forehead with a clenched fist. She did not, however jump back in time to avoid the next clawing, which brought the uniform down to her waist, trapping her arms against her sides. She was then pushed violently back down onto the bed. One shot. At least it had connected. The breathing was heavier, through clenched teeth. It had had it's desired effect. Seven shut her eyes, waiting. Soon she felt teeth on her neck. They pressed barely hard enough to break the skin, and would leave only tiny pinpricks. between them a surprisingly soft tongue ran slowly across, tasting her sweat, and her blood. Hands tightly clenched her arms, pulling them up over her head, further ripping the thin fabric of her jumpsuit. The mouth moved to her own, tasting the blood at it's source, and finding her tongue. Seven moaned against it, and the hands moved down to rip the rest of the uniform away, leaving Seven's flesh red and jiggling in the open air. She moaned with pleasure, and was rewarded with another blow across the face, though it was softer this time. Seven began to struggle anew, more from wishing to act the part than from a desire to escape. Her fists delivered a flurry of blows against the shadowy assailant, landing on face and neck, shoulder and breast. Finding the latter, she grabbed it, twisting and pulling at the soft flesh, careful not to do any injury. A growl was elicited, and a savage kiss landed on Seven's now blood- red lips. She felt fingers in her hair, and was jerked forward suddenly, her face against a uniform jacket which concealed a pair of soft breasts. Her hands, freed again, reached up to pull the clothing open, and off. She felt cool, naked skin beneath, there was no uniform tee. She leaned forward to find a nipple with her lips ... She was pushed back, thrust back against the mattress, and, as she rebounded, her hips were taken in a strong grip and twisted. She was flipped onto her stomach, her face buried in the pillow. She turned her head, gasping for breath. A flat palm on her upper back held her down, crushed into the soft bed. Soon she felt sharp nails, claws, scratching their way slowly down her back. The welts they would leave would heal. Seven knew that as the fingernails reached the two soft globes of her ass, that soon it would begin. She was not disappointed, as the claws gave way to soft fingertips, which slid down between her thighs to find a hot wetness. She knew also that a moan would bring the flat palm of that hand down on her exposed buttocks with a fury. She moaned in spite of that, or perhaps because of it. The hand fell on her ass, leaving a mark which, had there been any light other than the diffuse starlight from the window, would have shown bright red and large on her flawless, creamy skin. Another came, and another, and she cried out, gasping desperately. As the hand moved back between her thighs, and a slender fingertip ran along the swollen wet lips there, Seven felt hot breath against her ear. First a darting tongue, then sharp teeth, found her earlobe, her neck, her cheek. Seven hardly noticed when the hand moved from between her thighs, and there appeared the sounds of leather and metal. That, and being held pinned to the bed on her stomach, meant only one thing. She was therefore prepared when the strong hands pulled her ass up into the air, and fingers wrapped themselves into her hair. Still the shadowy figure said nothing. She heard the sound of uniform pants being undone, and pushed down. The hand let her head go, but she dared not look back, or move at all. The rustling behind her meant that the ... the attachment ... was being put on. Soon she would feel it against the back of her thighs. For the moment she felt only the sweat and blood trickling down her face, the sting and ache from the blows, and the heat building inside her. Soon, the hand grabbed her hair, and she was pulled back against a warm, strong body. She felt the cold shaft of the dildo resting between the globes of her ass. Finally, the shadow had a voice. "I should make you suck it." Torres observed with acid in her voice. "I should make you take it in your perfect little mouth and shove it down your perfect little throat ..." Seven would have, would have gladly done it, but she knew that if that was what B'Elanna had planned, it would have happened already. All she could do was wait here, on her hands and knees, for the shaft to be buried deep in her. She could feel that strong hand between her thighs, preparing her for it. "Do it ... " The hand came down hard on Seven's ass, and as she cried out, she felt the head of B'Elanna's artificial cock slide between the still jiggling thighs and into her. Torres thrust it deep into Seven, who's back arched luxuriously in response. Now, at least, the worst was over. Torres's mouth came down to Seven's neck, and licked its way down the center of her back as she began moving slowly in and out of her. It was more torturous than the backhands across the face. Seven pushed her ass back against Torres' thighs, desperately wanting what B'Elanna was even now witholding. Torres took the cue, and began pumping the now-warm and wet shaft mercilessly into Seven. Each thrust produced from the girl a gasp, a deep moan, a plea both for more and for mercy. Soon with the thrusts, or between them, Torres' palm began landing on her ass. Seven sobbed and begged, desperate for release. Soon, it came, and she came, and the sobs gave way to tiny gasps, as the quakes caromed through her. When the cock was withdrawn, and she was released, she collapsed back onto the stomach, her quivering chin buried in the pillow. Her breathing gradually returned to normal, and she listened for movement in the room. In a moment, she head a faint rustling, the sound of something being placed in a drawer, and the sound of fabric falling on skin. Seven turned over onto her side, and watched for the shadowy figure's return. Presently it did, and she felt B'Elanna's body slide onto the bed, and against her. The woman's strong arms wrapped around her and drew Seven against her, and there was only warmth, and comfort, and safety. At least until Kathryn came home. --- The End