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Warning: This story contains descriptions of sex, nudity, and sexual
situations. If you are offended by such things, or are under the legal age
for viewing such things in your area, please stop reading now. And go to
another newsgroup. If you object to, or are easily offended by, popular TV
characters being depicted in such situations, stop reading now. If you
choose to ignore these warnings, you are about average.

The characters depicted herein are copyrighted by Paramount Studios. Any
commercial use of these characters without written permission is illegal.
This story is distributed royalty free, and may not be distributed in any
commercial manner whatsoever.



Star Trek - The Next Generation: The Siege Of Troi Part 2
by The Bear ([email protected]) (mf,ff,humil,bd,tickling)

Perhaps her experiences at the trade conference had affected her more
deeply than she had realized. She knew she would pay for it later, but she
determined that her best solution, short term, was to devote herself to her
work.

Dressing in one of her more conservative uniforms, she set out to find the
elusive Ensign Braddock.

"Deck 9", Deanna instructed the turbo-lift in a firm voice. Outwardly, she
was calm, but inside she was terribly unsettled. The short walk to the
turbo-lift had been strange, and she wondered if she was having another
dream. From the quarters of most of the crew she passed came an emotional
aura of sensuality verging on lust. She tried to block it out, but it was
everywhere. Some of what she felt came from the crewmen's dreams, but a
lot was simply their waking thoughts and/or activities.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she left the 'lift and headed for her
offices.

After her walk through sleeping quarters, she expected to have a fair number
of people calling on her for help. The atmosphere of sexual tension was very
real, yet nobody seemed bothered by it. Some were invigorated, some were
embarrassed, but nobody was complaining.

The Counsellor decided to find her elusive Ensign. "Computer, please locate
Ensign Braddock," she asked. She could have just as easily spoken directly
to him, but she wanted to face him in person. It would be harder for him to
dodge her that way.

"Ensign Braddock is in Holo-deck 2," the computer-voice replied.

"Thank You," replied Deanna unnecessarily. The computer had no feelings, and
wouldn't acknowledge the courtesy in any case, but Deanna treated it like a
person. After all, Data was a computer, with no feelings, but was definitely
a person.

Leaving her offices, Deanna went directly to Holo-deck 2. A program called
Helen and Paris was running, but Deanna was unfamiliar with it. Using her
command-level authorization, she ordered the computer to open the door, and
entered.

She found herself in a setting that reminded her of her home on Beta-Zed.
The time was evening, and the breeze was cool with a hint of the sea in it.
The area was wooded, and she could see white stone structures nearby, fluted
columns and arches giving the classical architecture a peaceful, pleasing
appearance.

Looking up, she read the constellations, and recognized the sky as seen from
Earth.

Treading softly on the soft earth, Deanna headed for the building, reasoning
that if Braddock wasn't there at the moment, he would be soon. The path
meandered pleasantly, but went directly enough towards the building that
Deanna didn't mind.

Rounding a bend in the path she encountered a sight that stopped her in her
tracks. Coming towards her down the path was... her? This program apparently
included a holo-image of Deanna Troi, wearing her Star-Fleet uniform complete
with Communicator badge and Tri-corder.

The two Betazoids faced each other for a moment, equally surprised.

"Who are you?" asked the holo-image. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, but I know the answer already," replied the
real Troi. "This is a holo-deck fantasy."

Before she could continue, the other Deanna interrupted her, saying,
"Computer, delete character Troi." Immediately, the image that had issued
the command vanished as if she had never been.

"Well, that's one for the books," commented the real Troi with a wry smile.
"A holo-deck character that deletes itself."

She continued towards the building, more curious than ever. Why would a man
who was avoiding her include her in his holo-deck program?

Slowly, Deanna climbed the stairs of the structure, it's design impressive
even in the evening shadows. She entered.

They came from the shadows, silent and quick. Before Deanna could react, she
was seized from behind. "Computer, fremmmmmph," she said as a hand muffled
her command. Her hands were bound, and a soft cloth was forced into her
mouth, gagging her.

In spite of her discomfort, Deanna wasn't really afraid. She knew that the
holo-deck computers included safety subroutines that ensured that no one
could be injured by anything in the room. Still, she wondered what was going
on.

She soon had her answer. "Sir," said one of the cloaked figures to another.
"We found a spy. What should be done with her?"

"Hmmm," murmured the taller figure. "Take her to the lower chamber and
torture her until she is ready to talk."

The images froze for a moment, then moved backwards for a few seconds span
as the safeties cut in. Then, its program changed, the sequence replayed
itself.

"Hmmm," murmured the taller figure. "Take her to the lower chamber and
torment her until she is ready to talk."

"Yes sir," came the reply, and Deanna was hustled away by strong hands.

She wasn't sure what the difference was between "Torture" and "Torment", but
she was certain that "Torture" would have involved pain and injury. If not,
then the holo-deck's computers wouldn't have changed the program.

In any case, she knew what she would say as soon as they asked her the first
question.

* * *

"Mmmmffff," mumbled the gagged Betazoid in protest. Her uniform had been
removed, to be replaced by a long, white toga-like gown. Actually, it was a
single long strip of white fabric with a hole for her head. It was draped
over her head and shoulders, leaving her sides completely exposed. She lay
now on a smooth table, her hands and feet locked in padded stocks. The
arrangement, arms over her head, reminded her of a medieval rack, and she
suspected that this had been exactly that in the original program, but that
the safeties had modified it to something else.

A tall man in a red robe approached her. "Who sent you to spy on us, woman!"
he demanded sternly.

Deanna shook her head back and forth, trying to dislodge the gag, or to draw
the man's attention to it. She couldn't talk with it in place, so he would
have to remove it if she was to answer.

"Foolish of you to refuse," the man intoned, apparently mistaking her
movements for denial. "Convince her!"

Instantly, two women approached, brandishing ... feathers? They applied the
strange instruments of torture to Deanna's helpless body, starting at her
exposed armpits.

Deanna screamed, twisting in her bonds, as the tickle-torment began. She
realized that the computer would not consider this harmful. She felt the twin
feathers work their way down her naked sides, the tips twisting and dancing
over her sensitive skin. She convulsed in incontrollable laughter as they
began to work her sides, under her ribs. She worked her jaws desperately,
trying to bite through the gag, to stop this madness.

As she struggled for breath, she saw two more women approach her feet,
holding large, soft brushes. She kicked and twisted, but the stocks held,
and in moments she was subjected to another assault, this time on her
sensitive feet.

Deanna was near madness. The ladies took turns at her body, so she never
seemed to lose sensitivity in any of her exposed areas. They worked, and
she laughed, her body convulsing uncontrollably.

Deanna was ready to pass out, unable to draw a breath except when the ladies
traded positions. Her sides ached, her lungs burned, and her throat was raw.
But worse than that, she was feeling a growing fire in her loins. Her nipples
were hard beneath the gauzy fabric, and her nether lips were growing moist.

The man in red stood to one side, taking in her torment. During a change off,
he stepped forward, pulling the gag from her mouth. "Well, harlot, will you
answer my questions now?" he demanded sternly.

    

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