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This story is a work of fiction. So don't try this at home. Well, you can try this at home, just be sure to try it with a consenting adult! Names and characters belong to Paramount, as if you didn't know. But we stress we are not writing this for money, although sex sells. Oh, yeah...any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. And that's the truth!



Star Trek - Deep Space Nine: Rebellious Desires (MF,MFF,oral,ncon)
by Jourdan Taylor Lane

The Cardassian guard shoved the Bajoran woman inside the Prefect's office, with the butt of his phaser rifle, causing her to fall to the floor. An agonizing pain shot through her body, she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Jarra lifted her gaze slightly, noting the grey metal boots before her. How often had she witnessed those metallic beasts strike her father and brothers? Now, she was to be victim of their vengeful wrath.

She felt a wild rise of panic. She had to flee. She started to rise, but stopped when she felt the cold metal of the guard's rifle dig into her tender flesh. Gritting her teeth, she fought the urge to vomit.

What difference would her escape make? Jarra asked herself in anguish. The Cardassians still controlled her world and enslaved her people. There was no place to go. Her actions wouldn't make a difference.

Abruptly, she heard the sharp reprimand spoken in their language; able to grasp a few words, she knew the Cardassian didn't care for the quard's treatment of her. Immediately, the weight of the rifle lifted from her back. Relief washed over her. Then suddenly she heard the door open, then slide closed behind her, and the fear came rushing back. Once again, she was alone with a Cardassian. She felt as if she might be sick. Or pass out.

"Don't be afraid. It is not my intention to harm you," came a deep voice as she was helped to stand. "Unless you give me reason."

Her green eyes were downcast.

He noted she refused to look at him. He took this moment to look her over. The tattered dress concealed little. The Bajoran was slight in figure, most likely from malnutrition, but she still retained her curves in which he was relieved to see. Although she wasn't unappealing, she was not exquisitely striking. He thought she might clean up rather nicely.

He smiled at her. She had a sweet look of innocence as a Vedeck's daughter should. "I've heard that your father was once a powerful member of the Vedeck Assembly, groomed by Kai Opaka herself," he said.

He saw the flash of color in her cheeks and smiled. So, she does have some life in her. Good, he thought. Maybe she will prove to be entertaining. Once again, his gaze slid over her, then rested on the gentle swell of her breasts, he felt a pang of desire tense his groin.

"Look at me," he commanded softly.

His voice was husky, it sounded kind. She slowly lifted her gaze to him. Her heart seemed to catapult, and then go still. It was Gul Dukat! She couldn't still the trembling that invaded her body. She felt as if the world just dropped beneath her. Please let this be a nightmare. I will awaken suddenly and he will be gone. But it wasn't a dream. He was standing in front of her in all his arrogant glory, looking every bit the Prefect of Bajor, cold and merciless.

He lifted her chin with lean fingers. There was a branding heat in his touch, a staggering force, a power. She found she couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. Again, she'd felt as if she would pass out. She didn't, of course.

"Are you afraid?" he asked, knowing the answer to his question.


With as much courage she could manage, she spoke. "Is that what you want? For me to be afraid? Would it please you to know that I fear for my life?"

He sighed deeply, caressing her cheek lightly with his fingertips. The touch felt warm, and caring, something totally unexpected from a murderer, and yet, it caused her body to swirl with sensations she dared not name.

"That is not what I desire," he said. Suddenly, his fingers left her face. "Are the rumors so embedded in your Bajoran conscious that you think I am capable of the atrocities I'm accused of?"

She just stared at him in disbelief.

"You may speak freely," he said. He watched her stiffen in response to her words.

She could feel her blood run hot with fury. How dare he give her permission to speak? He had no right!

She found herself blurting those very words.

"How dare you? How dare you give me permission to speak? You have no right!"

A smile played on sensual lips. "I have every right. You belong to me. And if I deem it necessary for you to speak, or not, then I will do so."

Anger made her brave. "I belong to no one. Certainly not to a Cardassian dajra!"

His laugh was unexpected, surprising her, but she didn't mistake the fury waiting beneath his gaze. "You swear like a Cardassian ground soldier." His laugh subsided; his eyes darkened as he gazed at her. "What else have you learnt from the soldiers? Have you taken one as your lover?" He ignored her gasp of outrage, and continued. "Did one teach you how to please a Cardassian? Did one show you..."

Her hand aimed for his face, but he was swift, he enclosed her delicate wrist in a painful grip, then smiled cruelly down at her, he felt her pulse race wildly in his hand.

"What did you hope to accomplish?" he whispered harshly. "I know you are aware of the penalty for striking a Cardassian." Her eyes widen in alarm; he ignored it.

She couldn't think, couldn't speak, only feel the warmth from his hand. Although his grip was cruel, it was soothing, like a soft caress. She wanted to pull her hand away. She didn't like the feelings she was experiencing. She found she liked his touch, and felt her stomach lurch at the silent admission.

Dukat, sensed the war within her. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly; her skin was soft and smooth. He felt her jerk again, but she didn't pull away. He grew bolder, this time running her tongue along her wrist, feeling her pulse throb against it.

"Please, stop," she begged.

"Why Jarra?"

She hated the sound of her name on his lips. "You mustn't. It's not right," she pleaded.

He shook his head. "I could never understand how Bajorans view intimacy," he said while he continued to hold her hand, but the grip had softened. "Tell me, Bajoran, have you ever lain with a man?"

She gave a gasp, tried to pull away, shaking her head furiously. "Please, no. I beg you..."

"Answer me," he commanded.

"No," she manage to squeak, tears filling her eyes.

He didn't want a hysterical female on his hands. "You have nothing to fear," he soothed. "I promise, no harm will come to you."

"Am I interrupting?" Gul Madred asked from the doorway.

Her eyes flew to the door and settled on the man with the hawklike stare. She began to tremble. His eyes were cold, penetrating, seeping inside her. More cruel than the man which held her. She couldn't stop the trembling.

Dukat sighed hard. "You were supposed to wait until I contacted you."

Madred frowned at him.

Jarra watched in fear.

"You know I don't like to be kept waiting, Gul Dukat."

"She's not ready," Dukat hissed. He felt Jarra's fear.

"She will be."

Dukat looked like he was dying to say something more. But Madred answered directly to the government, and their ranks were equal. If the Command deems it, Madred could supersede his authority regarding the Bajoran. Nevertheless, Jarra was his prisoner, therefore, his responsibility. Besides, Dukat was aware of Gul Madred's reputation for interrogating female prisoners. They were never the same afterwards.

"You're on Terok Nor, Gul Madred. I suggest you take notice," he warned. "I will contact you if...I decide I require your services."

Madred glared at Dukat, but maintained his control. "I have my orders. You have one hour to discover where the Khon-ma's base is located. After that, the prisoner is under my jurisprudence," Madred announced sharply, then exited the office.

Dukat refused to look down at her. He didn't have to, to know that she was pale with fear.

He tapped his comm band and barked a command. The doors slid open. Two guards stepped inside the office, weapons poised.

"Take the prisoner to level four, room sixteen."

They nodded and reached for her.

"No!" she shouted, struggling. "You promised that I wouldn't be harmed."

Anger fueled his gaze. "I'm well aware of what I've promised," he snapped, then said to the guards. "Take her!"

She fought the vicelike grip around her arms, tried to break free to no avail as they half-dragged, half-carried her down the dimly lit corridors. The guards were too strong for her lithe frame, but she swore she would not go willingly.

She ceased the pitiful attempts at escape when one of the guards barked a deadly warning.

"If you don't behave Bajoran, I promise I will give you something to really struggle for," he hissed. His comrade laughed wickedly as lust sparked his gaze.

Choking back a sob, she felt as if her legs would give out. She managed to find the strength to walk to the office after one of the guard's offered to carry her.

As they escorted her down the corridors, they passed several of her people. Their eyes were downcast, refusing to see the agony that reflected in hers, or they feared drawing the Cardassians attention, least they are punished for disobedience. Most likely it was both reasons.

A guard entered the access code to the room and stepped inside, pulling her with him, the second guard followed close behind. Her eyes widened in fear as she spotted the huge ornate bed in the center of the room, with metal shackles that were attached to four posts. Above the bed were four large lights, dimly lit, which shone in soft radiance upon the bed.

When she felt herself being pulled toward the Cardassian monstrosity, she'd felt a surge of strength. She began to struggle. The second guard delivered a numbing blow to her head, rendering her unconscious, then carried her effortlessly to the center of the bed.

Awakening, she felt the cold metal around her wrists. It shocked her into awareness, but it was too late, she was already imprisoned on the bed, with her back against the course sheets. She was about to shout an alarm when she noticed Dukat stood at the edge of the bed, naked and appealing. She might be innocent of intimacy, but her body reacted to his muscular form.

Instantly, her eyes darted around the room, looking for the guards.

"We are alone," he said. His gaze slid casually over her, noting her full, round breasts that were partially concealed by the tattered dress. Her nipples peeked between slits, pink and hard. Her fear made her pant, forcing her slender ribcage to rise and fall in a rhythm he found hypnotic.

Jarra felt a liquid warmth ooze down her thighs.

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded.

He was staring down at her with the most feral look on his face. "That should be apparent," he said. "I need to know the location of the Khon-ma's base. And you are going to tell me. The decision is solely yours on how you will be treated. Only you can decide what methods I will deploy to extract the information."

She shook her head furiously. Her long hair swayed gracefully over the bed. "You are a beast!" she spat. "A cruel, vicious beast! You, and all your kind!"

Her slander was the last he was going to take. He grabbed her dress around the neckline and roughly ripped downwards, removing it from her body. He ignored the shattering scream. "I think it's time you understood what it means to be Bajoran," he grated out.

Another scream rented the air when his bare chest touched her own. Sobs racked her small frame; she attempted to move, but the weight bearing down on her was overpowering. She ceased the pitiful struggles. "Exactly," he said in a low groan.

She was soft, deliciously so. He wanted to bury his face in the crook of her neck and make, slow, sweet love to her. He would have her, but she'd be hot and begging for his touch, not screeching like a 'Cardassian lynar'. But first, he must retrieve the information.

"Soon you won't fear my touch, Bajoran," he said. The look of promise in his eyes.

"May the prophets send you to hell you wretched beast," she hissed.

"Fear makes you brave," he smiled. "I like that. You will provide great entertainment."

He cupped her breast, and massaged the turgid nipple against his palm. She immediately reacted to it. A low groan elicited deep in her throat. Her breasts were ready for him, even if the rest of her wasn't. That will soon change.

"You call me a beast Bajoran, but your body tells me you don't think of me as one," he murmured. "Have you changed your mind, then?"

She was filled with the most conflicting emotions. She knew she should feel outraged, but the opposite was really the full truth. The small vestigial scales on his chest, so deeply etched, so soft, tickled her breasts into responding. She was warm all over. Outrage, she remembered. I must be outraged, and frightened too.

"I will tell you nothing, Cardassian," she viciously spat. "You will have to kill me. That's what you intend to do anyway."

He stared down into her eyes a long minute. He liked what he saw there, didn't even try to hide his grin of male satisfaction. "The interrogation has begun."

He slowly lowered his head and his mouth took absolute possession. He was hungry for her. The feel of his mouth on hers was making her just as ravenous for him. She welcomed his tongue, rubbed it against her own. Her whimper of longing and acceptance blended with his raw growl of need.

The kiss was openly savage. He was a man whose hunger wouldn't be easily appeased. He wouldn't let her retreat or give half-measure. But she didn't want to draw back. Instead, wanted to wrap her arms around his neck, thread her fingers through his black silk hair, and cling to him. But she was bound.

When he finally pulled away, she felt alone. The need to have him pressed against her was powerful.

His voice was ragged when he asked, "Jarra? Where is the base located?"

"No!"

His lips eased into a grin, then said, "No, you don't know, which I know is a lie. Or no, you're not going to tell me?"

She stared defiantly up into his eyes. "I'm sorry. Could you repeat the question?" She felt him tense against her, then hastily added. "I can't concentrate when you're pressed against me."

The seriousness of her voice told him she wasn't jesting. He decided to demand a response from her body. She will tell him what he need to know. He placed hot, wet kisses on her neck; and when his tongue brushed against one of her nipples, her body began to burn for his.

He teased a path up the side of her neck with his hot mouth, urging her without words to respond. He felt her control disappear. Soon she was whimpering softly in the back of her throat, grinding against him. It drove him wild. He roughly
pulled on her hair until he'd made a fist of silky hair, then jerked her head back so he could once again claim her mouth for a searing kiss. When he stopped, she was breathless and hot for his touch.

He hissed. "I need to know where the base is." His grip tightened in her hair.

She cried out. "You're hurting me."

"This is merely a taste of what Madred will do to you if you don't cooperate and tell me what I need to know. Once he takes over this interrogation, you will know the definition of pain," he warned.

He paused, for a moment to gaze into tear-filled eyes, clouded with emotions. He shut his mind and proceeded with his duty.


"The name!"

"I hope you burn for this," she sputtered. "I hope the Kohn-ma...."

"Times up," called the voice from the entrance, sounding quite pleased. No. Eager.

Dukat whirled around to face Madred, who stood casually in the entrance. He was right. His time was up and so was hers. Stupid Bajoran. He could have saved her life. Well, maybe it was for the best. There was a chance he might appear forgiven and spare her the pain of the interrogation. It was better that a government interrogator extracts the information.

With a casual air, he answered. "She's all yours."

Dukat's gaze met hers as he dressed with deliberate slowness. His eyes spoke volumes. She thought she had seen regret, but before she could look deeply he turned and walked out of the room. Never looking back.

"I see Dukat has improved on his style of interrogation," Madred grinned and caressed the metal shackles. "Pity he didn't stay and watch. I always enjoyed an audience."

He saw the fear in her eyes and smiled. There was nothing he enjoyed more than savoring someone's fear, seeing their eyes cloud in pain, hear his subject beg for mercy, or death. It didn't matter which plea they uttered, both were satisfying to hear. And they were merely that to him, subjects. Something to be
studied and explored; something he could practice his techniques on. He was always improving his methods on extracting information. He was grateful that the occupation provided him with ample opportunities.

As he looked down at her quavering form, he knew he would relish trying new techniques on her. He watched the naked Bajoran squirm under his intense gaze, saw the tears stream down her face. Yes, she was afraid of him and he relished it. The subjects are so entertaining when fear grips them. He wondered if she were a screamer. The thought caused his sex to harden.

"Do you know who I am?"

She was frozen with fear.

"I see," he said, then stroked her cheek. He smeared her tears lightly with his fingertips. "I would be lying if I told you that you have nothing to fear. You should be afraid," he whispered, "very afraid."

"Bastard!" she spat.

"Ah, the little whore has some bite after all," he laughed. "Good. I like that. But only call me a bastard when I'm fucking you." He paused and threaded his fingers in her long hair and twisted cruelly. "Unless you want me to fuck you now, hmmm? Is that what you want, Bajoran? Want me to fuck you?"

He grinned at her whimpers and twisted harder. She cried out and began to struggle fervently.

"Please..." she gasped.

"Please what?"

"You're hurting me. Please stop."

"That's exactly the point, my dear" he replied with nonchalance. "You see, you had a chance to tell Gul Dukat everything you know, but you have decided to be tortured instead. You have no one to blame but yourself. You chose this."

Her body was racked with sobs. There was no doubt in her mind what he intends to do to her. The memories of her friend's rape came rushing back to taunt her; she was never the same. Then her thoughts turned to Dukat, she thought of his warning and wished she'd told him something, anything that would have made him
believe that it was the location of the base. Although he was a Cardassian, she'd sensed reverence in him, he wouldn't torture her. If only she had listened to him.

"I will tell you what you want to know," she offered.

"Of course, you will."

"No! I will tell you now."

"And more," he said. He saw her shocked expression. "Did you think that's all I want from you? Come now, you don't strike me as being completely witless. There must be something in that aboriginal brain that is telling you that I want you. Or would you rather have me show you?"

"No!" she shouted.

He laughed cruelly and released her hair. "Sure you do," he said. He stroked his rigid member through his uniform for a moment, then freed it. It was long, thick, and wicked-looking. The square tip was smeared with his cum.

"Open your mouth," he commanded. She looked like she was about to protest. "Do not make me reiterate."

Slowly, she opened her mouth. The anticipation of what was about to happen made her stomach recoil. Again, she felt as if she might wretch.

He leaned over her and inserted his shaft into her mouth. He groaned when it touched her tongue. Deeper. He slowly inserted himself inside of her; she began to gag. He didn't stop. When she felt like she couldn't breathe, he waited until she adjusted to his size before sliding more into her. He felt his tip touch the
back of her throat and groaned his pleasure. Her tongue was hot against his sex, even more, when he began to thrust in and out of her. She gagged again, but he didn't care. He fucked her mouth furiously until he ached for his release. The gurgling sounds were sweet to his ears while he pounded her mouth. He was close,
very close, as he shoved it deeper. He cried out, releasing his seed deep in her throat. She continued to gag.

"Swallow it!" he barked. He felt the muscles contract around his sex as she obeyed. She swallowed quickly to remove the bitter taste from her mouth. Nonetheless, it was a sensual massage on his sex. He gave another moan of pleasure over the sensation it caused.

Smearing the remaining cum on her face, he leaned over and slowly licked his juices off her. His course tongue lightly grazed her skin as he traveled down her nose to her lips. He thrusted his tongue inside her mouth and conquered her again, forcing her to savor him as their tongues met. There was no feeling of pleasure for her, only hatred, which fueled his desire.

He felt her gag. She tried to pull away. Suddenly, the kiss broken and she felt the numbing blow to her face.

He hissed low. "Don't...ever do that again."

She was too stunned to cry out.

Abruptly, his communicator signaled.

"Report," he snapped.

"Gul Koran has arrived on the station. She wants to meet with you immediately."

Madred frowned. He abhorred interruptions during an interrogation, but Koran was his counterpart in the inquiry division. "Tell her to meet me on level four, room sixteen."

"As you command."

Madred looked down at Jarra and smiled wickedly. "Well, I will have my audience, after all."

Several minutes passed before the door to the room slid open. Gul Koran strides inside.

"Is this the Kohn-ma agent?" Koran asked.

"No greetings for your colleague, Gul Koran?" Madred smiled.

Koran gave a superior tilt of her head. "I have orders to take the prisoner to the internment camp on 'Vanduras Four'. She that she is clothed and escorted to my quarters."

"By whose authority!" Madred boomed.

Koran smiled evenly. She reached an isolinear rod to him. "Legate Hargus."

Fury tensed Madred's features. "So, Gul Dukat has called in a few favors," he said. "Very well. Inform Dukat that favors are easier to procure than to maintain."

At this moment, Jarra didn't care what the new orders meant for her. All she cared was that she would no longer be subjected to Madred's sadistic treatment. There was no doubt that he'd intended to rape her. Fortunate for her, he decided to show his mastery over her through oral sex than penetration. She still had some measure of dignity left.

* * *

Once again, Jarra found herself being escorted by the Cardassian guards. When she'd arrived aboard the Galor-class warship, she was taken to Gul Koran's quarters. She tried to swallow the fear that lodged in her throat, hoping this Gul wasn't like Madred. Did Dukat actually rescue her? She almost snorted at the thought. Gul Dukat would not rescue what he deems is a 'thankless breed'. A Bajoran is nothing to Cardassians, not worth the grime embedded in the soles of their boots.

Jarra was shoved inside Koran's quarters, she would have fallen if the Gul hadn't caught her.

"I gave specific instructions that she was not to be harmed!" Koran roared at the guards. They flinched in response to her angry rebuttal.

Unable to take the obtuse words anymore, Jarra began to laugh hysterically. Twice, she'd heard no one is to harm her, and yet, she was subjected to such debasement moments ago. Gul Dukat meant no harm, but he'd forced her body to respond to him, a Cardassian. Against her will, she grew damp from remembering. Not even Gul Madred's sadistic display of sovereignty managed erase the pleasure she'd experienced with Dukat.

Gul Koran watched as laughter swiftly gave way to tears. She loathed weakness, and hated to see anyone show it. Not only does it gives an enemy an advantage over you, it proves that you can be easily conquered.

Koran dismissed the guards, then walked over to the replicator and requested a glass of kanar. A small glass, containing a bluish liquid materialized. She lifted it off the mat, then strode over to Jarra.

"Drink."

It was more of a command than a request. Jarra shook her head.

Koran gave an exasperated sigh. "It will help calm you. Drink it," she ordered.

With trembling fingers, Jarra reached for the glass, then slowly lifted it to her lips. One gulp, and only a small amount of the liquid remained. She felt some dribble down her chin, but refused to wipe it away while the Gul was staring at her. Jarra shook in spite of herself, chilled by Koran's probing gaze.

"I think Gul Dukat has lost his sense of perception," Koran said. "To think he would risk his career for a scrawny, Bajoran female."

Jarra's eyelids fluttered at the remark. Dukat risking his career? How? Why?

Through half-closed lids, Koran continued to study Jarra. She seriously doubted that this female could be useful. The Bajoran was practically starved from malnutrition, although she'd managed to retain her curves. Koran was aware of Dukat's appetites for these thankless breeds, but to risk keeping one as his mistress went beyond a simple tryst. For what reason does Dukat trifle with the idea? There must be something about her that he covets so ferociously. She was determined to find out.

"Take a shower and replicate an appropriate garment to wear," Koran ordered. "I will return within twenty minutes. See that you've finished preparing yourself before then." She exited the quarters.

Jarra's nostrils flared, her green eyes darkened. She was filled with so many emotions, she thought she would burst from the magnitude. Never, had she felt so disconcerted, she wished she could speak with a Vedeck. Suddenly, she thought of her father. She knew he was worried about her, even though he would mask the emotion behind ancient murmuring of light and laughter, as he lit candles for her safe return. How long has it been since she'd helped him light the scented wax?

It was easy for her to believe that she would always be safe at the temple because the Cardassians were known to avoid them. Perhaps it reminded them of their own religion that they have spurned? Although they wouldn't enter a temple, anyone who was seized outside of it and indentified as being a member of
Bajor's religious sect was persecuted. She'd witnessed her father and brothers's interrogation numerous times.

She let the thoughts of home return to the dark corner of her mind and headed for the shower. She didn't know what the Gul had planned for her, but she knew that Koran wouldn't be pleased if she didn't do as ordered.

Jarra showered, then requested an outfit that wasn't attractive. In fact, it was ghastly. There was nothing about the baggy and course garment which suggested it was even remotely alluring.

She glanced in a mirror and smiled, satisfied that her appearance could stop a charging, Cardassian 'bramma bull' in its tracks, she began to survey the quarters. It was elaborately decorated, with various works of art meticulously placed around the room, hinting the Gul was an avid collector. Before she could
inspect the quarters further, the entrance whisked open and Gul Dukat strode in, looking as austere as she'd remembered. She forced herself not to cringe.

She swallowed. "What are you doing here?"

He looked at Jarra, noting her pale features, but seeing no apparent bruises; he felt relieved. "Isn't it obvious?"

The remaining color drained from her face as moistness entered her eyes. "You do not--do not want to..."

"I do not want to what?"

There were tears on her lashes. He had the urge to take it away with his fingertips. "You do not want to rape me," she said, so low he thought he had misheard.

"What?"

She wasn't looking at him. She was regarding her hands.

He caught her chin in his calloused grip, lifting it. She flinched, but didn't pull away from his touch.

"I have never raped a female, and I do not intend to do so now," he growled. His temple throbbed visibly.

She whimpered, shrinking.

He was hurting her, hurting her because he wanted her to understand, wanted to take her away from the atrocities, wanted to make her his mistress...while she thought he wanted to rape her.

"I want you, Jarra," he purred, dangerously.

"Please!" Tears spilled onto her cheeks.

He eased his grip. "I want you as my mistress."

She choked on a sob; she felt dizzy.

"Imagine. No fear of rape nor retribution at the hands of Cardassian soldiers. Your father and brothers would never be beaten again. You will have food and the finest silk that ever graced your pearl-white skin. All this is possible..."

"If I become your whore!" she cried.

"I prefer the term, mistress."

"Prefer this," she said, then spat in his face.

Anger, furious and boiling, bubbled up in him. But all he said, so coolly, was, "I never allow room for a second mistake."

"Dukat!"

He flung a glance behind him and saw Koran entering the quarters. "What is it?"

"Careful. You wouldn't want to lose this opportunity," Koran smiled, without pleasure.

"Which is?"

"Come now, must you play coy," Koran teased.

"Koran!" Dukat barked a warning.

Koran gave a dramatic sigh. "Very well, if you insist," she said. "You want the female as bait, to draw the Kohn-ma out of hiding."

Dukat's gaze narrowed on Koran.

Jarra blurted. "I told you. I know nothing about the Kohn-ma!"

"Of course, you don't, dear," Koran cooed. "But your father does. Isn't that right, Dukat?"

Jarra looked at Koran, bewildered, then to Dukat. "My father?" she asked. "My father is a Vedeck in the Assembly. He knows nothing of Kohn-ma terrorists."

Koran smiled, gazing at Dukat squarely, despite the anger that heated his gaze. "I knew there must be another reason why you wanted 'this' Bajoran. So I called in a few favors of my own. And guess what I've discovered?"

His tone was impassive. "Is this the part where I plea for you to tell me?"

Koran regarded Dukat levelly, her brown eyes wide, with mockery. "One of your collaborators reported seeing Vedeck Sajhan meet with the leader of the Kohn-ma on Bajor. This has been confirmed since the collaborator is the Vedeck's own assistant, and have accompanied the Vedeck to the undisclosed meeting." Koran smiled. "It is your hope that the Jarra's imprisonment would force the Vedeck to reveal the location of the Khon-ma's base, because he might seek the leader's aide in rescuing his only daughter." She noticed his mouth pursed grimly.

"A pretty speech," Dukat murmured.

"A true one," Koran countered.

"Tell me. Is there an aphorism for this little tale?" he asked dryly.

"Yes." Koran grinned openly, apparently enjoying herself, "that the women you eye are often barbed. One could say that you have been pricked enough."

Dukat looked at Koran, wondering what she was leading up to and not doubting that she was angling purposefully somewhere. Otherwise she would not flaunt the information about the Vedeck, and never before had he heard his former mistress profess the least interest in his affairs. He raised a brow in interest.

"What do you want?"

"The direct approach?"

Dukat smiled, the smile, cool, ruthless. "What do you want?" he reiterated.

"Her."

Jarra gasped, paling. "What?"

Koran smiled at her. "I want you, as a gift for allowing Dukat the chance to become Legate. Capturing the Kohn-ma's leader would look well on his service record."

Jarra gaped.

"She is yours," Dukat continued relentlessly. "But not until I have captured the Kohn-ma's leader.

Jarra somehow recovered. "I'm not cattle to be bartered over. I am..."

"A Bajoran, without rights, and under Cardassian jurisprudence," Koran added, with a genuine smile.

Dukat joined Koran in her smile. "Why do I have the distinct feeling that she doesn't quite understand?"

Koran's smug, satisfied glance traveled over Jarra's form. "Maybe she requires confirmation."

He nodded.

A stunned silence ensued.

Dukat and Koran were regarding Jarra steadily.

Jarra's color deepened. She found herself looking at Dukat's groin, remembering. His sex was now completely hidden by his uniform, but not for long.

When Dukat moved toward Jarra, she jumped, scrambling to put distance between them. But the baggy pantsuit that she wore had hindered her movement, preventing her escape. He was able to grasp the folds of the garment and yank her back to him.

He handed Jarra to Koran who held her firmly, then suddenly unclasped the clips holding his black and grey breastplate together and let the heavy armor fall to the floor. Jarra's eyes widened, she took a step back against Koran. Dukat was unbuckling his armor belt. Total comprehension set in. He would take her now. Now, after promising that no harm would come to her, after giving her so casually to another. Now, he will rape her. "You can't mean this!" Jarra gasped.

Jarra was pierced by bold, brilliant blue eyes. "Oh, I do mean it," he whispered. There was nothing smug in his tone.

He was shrugging off his bodysuit in one quick movement and tossing it aside. In the dim light his naked torso rippled and gleamed like latinum.

Jarra was still stunned by what was happening, by the impossibility of it, the arrogance. She searched for something to say to deter him. "You have given me to Gul Koran!"

His stare was hard, but not blazing. Was there a trace of amusement there? "That's why she will taste you first."

Jarra reacted in horror. She tried to pull away from Koran, but she found her grip too firm. Even if she could escape, she knew, with a huge, terrible fear, that there was nowhere to go. Koran's iron hand forced Jarra to face her, pulling her forcefully up against her body. "No!" Jarra screamed, struggling
in hysteria.

With Koran's leg, she caught Jarra deftly, knocking her feet out from under her. The Bajoran went down, as Koran intended, and was on her back in a trice, writhing and bucking, while Koran straddled her, a knee on each side of her hips. The Cardassian female seized Jarra's wrists. Her thighs were rock-hard, pinning her in place as Jarra twisted desperately, futilely. Koran released her and, in one violent movement, ripped her pantsuit open, from throat to waist. Dukat reached between them to pull the tattered garment down Jarra's legs, removing it.

With a vicious cry, Jarra raked Koran's cheek with her nails, drawing blood and flesh.

Koran's response was immediate, she grasped both of Jarra's wrists with one hand, wrenching them up, over her head, then held them down on the hard floor. Jarra froze in the face of the Cardassian's overwhelming power. For a moment, they stared at each other, Koran's expression savage, lust-filled, Jarra's
panicked.

"Don't fight me, Bajoran," Koran commanded. "You cannot win."

"I will always fight Cardassians," Jarra cried, bucking again, hopelessly trying to dislodge Koran. "Filth!"

Dukat grasped Jarra's wrists as Koran released them. He watched his former mistress slide down the Bajoran's naked body and pry her thighs apart. He felt an adrenaline surge of arousal tense his sex, when Koran lowered her head between Jarra's thighs.

When Jarra felt the wet tip of Koran's tongue scrape against her sensitive bud, she fought to close her legs but it was useless. Koran had impaled her.

Jarra gasped from the lightning lancing of arousal. She closed her eyes in an attempt to block the orgasmic sensations. Her heart was pounding furiously, but not from fear, as Koran drove her tongue into her swiftly, deeply, stopping only briefly to suck gently at her bud. Jarra could feel Koran, every inch of
her, all the slickness and power, thrusting deeper, faster into her sex until she screamed with a raw cry, from the force of her orgasm.

There was no chance to recover. Now, Dukat slid between her thighs, but he didn't force her. Jarra was moaning in complete abandon, uncaring, clawing at his ridged flesh, raising her hips to guide his sex inside her. He laughed hoarsely, the sound full of triumph. Swiftly, he breeched her. She cried out, from the tear of her maidenhood. He made no attempt to roll off her. Instead, he stroked her hair and cooed soft words to her as her face, wet with tears, was buried in his neck. His legs were between hers, tight, not relaxed, and he was throbbing within her, demanding her sensual response.

He began slowly, nipping and licking her breasts until she was grinding her hips against him wildly, frantically, panting, gasping, and then he allowed himself, finally, to join her, thrusting fiercely, roughly, deeply until their cries of pleasure reverberated around the quarters.

Jarra had just become aware of what happened when Dukat rolled off her. Yet instead of pulling away, he gathered her into his arms. Koran joined them on the floor. "You belong to us," Dukat murmured. Jarra had to look at him. He was on his knees, holding her close, broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted, so powerful and striking. His sex hung thick, flaccid, wet, against his thigh. Her gaze found his face.

Dukat was also studying Jarra openly, and his hand swept the damp hair from her forehead. His touch was, it seemed, reverent. Jarra could not read his expression, as contained as it was, yet when his gaze lifted, she saw the smoldering, uncontainable glow in his eyes. Before she could react, he was lifting her and carrying her to the bed. So it was not yet over, she thought, and realized, innocently, that the surging in her heart was gladness.

Dukat climbed in next to Jarra, then suddenly was joined by Koran who removed her uniform to press her slender, curved frame against the Bajoran. Both caressed Jarra languidly, with obvious enjoyment and with clear carnal intent. Jarra groaned, arching sensually beneath their touch. There was no turning back. She realized that she belongs to them, her Cardassian lovers, whom would drive her relentlessly, past all Bajoran perceptions and limitations.

She gladly accepted it.

    

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