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Disclaimer: The following is a work of fan fiction and is not intended to
infringe on any copyright claim held by Paramount. The following tells a
story intended for adults and includes content of a sexual, BDSM nature.
Please do not read this if you feel the adult situations within might be
upsetting to you. I will leave it to the imagination of the reader whether
the events depicted are disciplinary or sensual and whether they are
consensual or non-consensual.



Star Trek - Voyager: The Seven Of Nine Spankings Part 1 (FF,spank)
by Handsofstone ([email protected])

Arriving at her quarters after completing her shift, Janeway found herself
pre-occupied with thoughts about her latest “discussion” with Seven of
Nine. When Janeway was a girl and her parents argued, it made her upset.
Sometimes, they would try to comfort her by saying they were only having a
discussion, not an argument. But Janeway knew better.

Still, she felt more comfortable categorizing her disagreements with Seven
as discussions. Even though Seven had been aboard Voyager for several
months and was becoming more a part of the crew every day, Janeway still
was inclined to tread softly around the former Borg drone as she re-claimed
and re-discovered her humanity. To be sure, Janeway gave Seven more leeway
to question the captain’s judgement than she would accord any other member
of the crew, save for Chakotay.

Janeway wondered if others in the crew, like the headstrong Torres or the
impulsive Paris, resented the freedom she gave Seven. Janeway did not,
however, worry about any such resentment. She was confident that she was
pursuing the right path by encouraging Seven to speak up and voice her
opinions as they formed. Not only could Seven bring valuable tactical and
scientific insights to Voyager, but this opportunity for expression also
was Seven’s best opportunity to grow. To grow more and more human, and more
comfortable with humanity, Janeway thought.

But maybe today had gone a little too far. Janeway knew Seven usually had
good reasons for when she contradicted the captain, but the actual
subordination she witnessed today, no matter its slight nature, had shocked
Janeway. Torres, a former Maqui, would never ignore a direct order from her
commanding officer, but Seven of Nine, less than four months after being
rescued from the Borg, had done just that earlier today.

* * *

Janeway was having lunch by herself in the Mess, working her way through an
Ocampan stew prepared by Neelix, when Seven of Nine entered. She had been
assigned to the bridge to help Paris plot a long-term course towards the
Alpha quadrant that would avoid areas of heavy Borg activity. This, of
course, was exactly the kind of valuable contribution Seven could make to
the crew at present, and she had shown no reluctance to help her new
crewmates outwit her old ones. If the Borg could be called crewmates, that
is.

“Seven, how are the Astrometric adjustments coming,” Janeway asked as Seven
walked over to Neelix’s counter. Wrinkling her nose and forehead, Seven
hesitantly picked up a bowl of stew.

“The task is proceeding . . . adequately,” Seven replied, resting a tray on
Janeway’s table.

“Is there a problem?”

“Lieutenant Paris works at a . . . human pace.”

Janeway could see that Seven was choosing her words carefully. “But not a
pace of your choosing, I take it?”

“No. I think I could complete the task more efficiently if I worked alone.
Perhaps in the Astrometrics lab. I would submit my work for your review, of
course.”

“I understand, but this is a course we won’t be using for weeks. There’s no
great hurry to get it done today.”

“Captain, . . .”

“Besides,” Janeway continued, “I think you benefit greatly from working
with your crewmates. I know you could do most of this assignment on your
own in the Astrometrics lab, but I want you to grow more comfortable
working, and just interacting, with other members of this crew.”

“I understand. But surely there are better uses for Lieutenant Paris’s time
than watching me program the helm’s computer systems.”

“I’m not sure he’d agree,” Janeway said, certain that Seven had no idea how
much Tom Paris and most of Voyager’s crew members, male or female, would
enjoy an assignment calling for close proximity to Seven of Nine.

“I do not understand,” Seven replied, shifting uncomfortably in her gray,
form-fitting bodysuit. Janeway noticed Seven’s endearing tendency to clasp
both her hands behind her when addressing the captain.

“Trust me, Seven, I have good reasons for wanting you to work with Paris on
this assignment. As the helmsman, he needs a thorough understanding of
where the ship needs to go.”

“Yes captain,” Seven said. Then she walked to an empty table and looked at
her lunch, displaying no eagerness to actually dig in.

Janeway had assumed the matter was finished, but when she went to the
bridge a few hours later, she saw Paris working by himself, inputting data
at the helm computers.

“Isn’t Seven of Nine helping you with that,” Janeway asked.

“I haven’t seen her since I suggested she take a lunch break. She seemed
tense and frustrated so I told her I could keep working on my own and that
maybe we’d finish tomorrow.”

“I gave her a direct order to continue working with you today.”

Paris knew well the frosty edge that Janeway’s voice could take when she
grew angry.

“Computer, identify the location of Seven of Nine,” Janeway intoned.

“Seven of Nine is in the Astrometrics lab,” the computer replied.

Walking into her ready room, Janeway pressed her comm badge.

“Seven of Nine, why are you working alone in the Astrometrics lab?”

“Captain, I . . . thought of something I needed to check before resuming my
work on the bridge.”

“You’ve been checking your work since lunch?”

After a pause, back came a hesitant, almost childish reply.

“Yes, captain.”

Janeway was not a mother, but children and subordinates could take the same
tone of voice when lying or, more likely in Seven’s case, not telling the
entire truth.

“Seven of Nine, stop what you are doing and return to Cargo Bay 2 until I
give you further instructions.”

“Captain, I . . .”

Janeway cut her off sharply. “That’s an order, crewman.”

“Yes, captain.”

* * *

Janeway’s thoughts were interrupted by the door chime. “Enter.”

“You wished to see me, captain,” Seven said. She entered with her head held
high and her posture erect as always. Once again, her hands reflexively
clasped together and rested at the top of her backside.

Ironic, Janeway thought, considering what she had in mind.

“You disobeyed a direct order of mine this afternoon.”

Seven remained silent. It occurred to Janeway that since Seven didn’t have
a logical argument for what she had done, she had no idea of what to say.

“Maybe later, we can get to why you disobeyed my order, but for now, I need
you to understand the chain of command. I cannot have you or any member of
this crew disregarding my orders.”

“Yes captain.”

More used to reprimanding the argumentative Torres or the over-eager
holographic doctor, Janeway was slightly surprised that Seven was not
offering any argument.

“I know you’ve been observing human behavior and studying it in your free
time, but there are many customs I’m sure you don’t know about. One in
particular that I am thinking of - I doubt it is a practice the Hansons
used when you were a girl.”

“Annika Hanson’s parents? What practice did they not use?”

“Seven, do you know what a spanking is?”

“I am not familiar with that term.”

“On earth, it was a common method parents used to discipline disobedient
children.”

“Discipline is necessary for order. Why would the Hansons not use a method
that maintains order?"

“In the late 20th century, spanking grew controversial. By the time Annika
was born, few human parents did it. Mine didn’t.”

“Why was spanking controversial? Was it not effective?”

“Seven . . . I love the way you see through complications that obscure the
heart of a matter. There was wide disagreement about whether spanking was
effective. But the practice’s opponents eventually convinced its adherents
that it was a cruel way to discipline children. You see, a spanking
involves the repeated striking of the buttocks, often until the recipient
is in tears.”

Seven’s eyes grew wide and her hands shifted a bit. She unfolded her right
hand briefly and ran it across the surface of her bottom, before quickly
re-clasping her hands behind her.

“Some people considered it almost barbaric, but in our travels, we’ve
discovered equivalents in most alien cultures we’ve encountered,” Janeway
continued. “I suppose it wasn’t something the Borg considered important
which would explain why you never heard of it.”

“You are right that the Hansons did not use this form of discipline,” Seven
said, looking toward the door. Then, turning her gaze to Janeway, she
added, “You intend to spank me.”

“Yes, unless you disagree.”

“I am not a child. You said spanking is a punishment for children.”

“I oversimplified, but more to the point, in many ways, Seven, you are very
childlike. No one can deny your intelligence or your sense of
responsibility, but in others ways, socially for example, you are less
mature than Naomi Wildman.”

“Does Naomi Wildman receive spankings?”

“I don’t know. It’s none of my business. But I think one would do you good,
and reinforce the fact that you cannot disobey a direct command from your
captain.”

“I see.”

“You probably won’t like it,” Janeway warned.

“If this is a disciplinary matter, that would be irrelevant.”

“I agree.”

Seven of Nine had no idea of what to do next. Janeway moved over to a sofa
in the living area of her quarters and sat down.

“Come over here,” Janeway instructed.

Seven felt both nervous and curious about spanking. She walked into the
living area and stood in front of Janeway.

“You need to lay face down across my lap,” Janeway explained.

Suddenly, the way the procedure was supposed to work clarified in Seven’s
mind. She was to lie prone across Janeway’s knees, giving the captain
access to strike her bottom with her hand. Seven bent down and laid across
Janeway’s knees - she was careful to position herself so that her buttocks
would be in easy reach of the captain’s right hand.

“Like this,” Seven asked, with no hint of embarrassment.

Janeway was amazed at Seven’s almost clinical approach to taking a
spanking, but she shouldn’t have been. Having heard about Seven’s purely
innocent offer to “copulate” with Harry Kim, she imagined that Seven had no
idea of the possible sexual ramifications of being in this position. She
wondered if Seven was even aware of how greatly many humans admired a nice
rear end.

She looked down at Seven’s bottom, snuggly framed by her bodysuit. Janeway
had traveled much of the galaxy, both in the Delta and Alpha quadrants, and
had seen many humanoids, male and female. But she had never seen a more
perfect rear end than that possessed by Seven of Nine. An artist at the
height of genius could not have sculpted a more perfectly erotic shape.

Seven’s bottom could not accurately be described as small or large because
either modifier would imply that it was “too” something. But Seven’s bottom
was corporeal perfection. Like many large rear ends, it was round and
protruded delightfully, in a way that was almost impossible to obscure. But
like smaller backsides, it also had definition - its form heightened and
amplified by the way it tucked in at the bottom to create a nearly perfect
spherical shape when viewed from the side.

Seven had amazing eyes, a piercing gaze, a fierce intellect, lush, gorgeous
hair, long, shapely legs and near-perfect breasts. But Seven’s bottom was
undeniably her best physical feature, Janeway thought.

“Captain, isn’t a spanking supposed to involve striking,” Seven asked,
interrupting Janeway’s reverie. She was right, of course, and apparently
eager to take her first spanking.

“That’s correct. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Seven replied. She waited without tensing up. 'That would soon
change,' Janeway thought.

Janeway raised her right hand in the air, hesitated briefly, and then brought
it down forcefully on Seven’s right buttock. She then quickly repeated,
smacking hard on Seven’s full left cheek.

'That barely stung,' Seven thought to herself. She had no idea of what to
expect, but the mention of tears led her to anticipate sharp, searing pain.
'Perhaps this is one of the rare things Captain Janeway is not proficient
at,' she thought.

Janeway proceeded to unleash a torrent of blows on Seven’s gray-clothed
bottom, sometimes alternating between the right and left sphere, other times
smacking one cheek repeatedly.

After about a minute, Seven was squirming on Janeway’s lap, trying to shift
away from the blows. 'I underestimated the captain’s prowess,' Seven thought,
'but it’s just as well if I am to benefit from this experience.'

Janeway stopped spanking and placed her right hand on the small of Seven’s
back.

“Is something wrong, captain? Are we done?”

“Not on your life. How do I lower the seat of your bodysuit? Is it all one
piece?”

“You need to remove my bodysuit?”

“Yes, for the full effect of this spanking, you need to receive it on your
bare . . . uh, backside.”

“I understand,” Seven said, and she rose from Janeway’s lap and began to
pull off her garment from the shoulders.

“You don’t need to remove the whole outfit,” Janeway said.

Seven reached behind her and uncovered a zipper that circled her waist. She
undid the zipper and began rolling the bottom portion of the gray body suit
down her legs. She kicked off her shoes and removed the leggings of her
suit. Janeway could see that Seven’s bottom was lightly pink.

Seven moved to put the leggings on a chair and noticed her bottom in a
mirror. “My rear end has changed shade,” she said.

“Yes, and it will get even darker before we’re through. Now come back over
here.”

Seven hurried back to the sofa, allowing Janeway a brief glimpse of a
triangular tuft of hair above Seven’s legs before she lowered herself
across Janeway’s knees again.

“You may continue,” Seven said.

Janeway resumed the spanking, trying her best to spread the color around
Seven’s firm, resilient bottom. Seven took her punishment stoically, other
than for her squirming.

Trying to keep count of the number of smacks in her head, Seven soon
realized that she had received 150 smacks since removing the bottom of her
suit.

“Captain, you have spanked my right side more times than my left. Is there
a reason for this?”

“Seven, you’re counting?”

“Yes, you have spanked my right buttock 77 times and my left buttock 73
times.”

“I’m impressed. Chalk it up to human imperfection. I’ll try to do better,”
Janeway said, resuming the spanking.

Curiosity got the better of Seven and she turned her head. She saw Janeway
with pursed lips, staring intently and bringing her open right hand,
flattened like a circuitry panel, down hard on Seven’s left cheek. Seven
shuddered slightly at the blow.

A few smacks later, Seven felt an urge to move her hands, which had been
dangling in front of her, down her back to protect her bottom. She knew the
captain would not approve, however.

“I wish to inform you that it hurts,” Seven said, with a bit of a yelp.

“Good,” Janeway replied, and she began smacking harder.

“Oww,” Seven cried after a rapid volley of smacks back and forth on her
cheeks. She was beginning to lose her composure.

On what Seven counted as the 300th smack, Janeway decided to give her 10
consecutive hard smacks on her left buttock, just to make sure that neither
cheek was short-changed.

Seven was squirming and crying out softly now after more smacks than not. On
the 10th straight hard blow to her left buttock, Seven’s resolve disappeared
and her left hand flew back to cover her sore, reddened backside. With her
palm upright, seven covered her left cheek with the fleshy part of her hand,
while her fingers straddled the gap between her buttocks and partially
covered her right flank.

Janeway marveled at what she saw. She had little doubt that it cost Seven as
much, if not more, to lose her composure like this in front of the captain,
than it did to submit to this punishment or even to bare half her body.

Seven’s rear end glowed bright red from the lower curvature of her round
spheres all the way to the top of her posterior near the small of her back.

With the din of all the incessant smacking subsided, Janeway suddenly
realized that she could hear sniffling. Seven was weeping.

Janeway relaxed and rested back against the couch. “Get up, Seven,” she
said softly, yet firmly.

Seven rose, her legs buckling slightly. Her right hand was up against her
face, rubbing tears away. Her left hand was also busy, caressing her
well-punished behind.

“Turn around for a moment,” Janeway said. Seven did as she was told and
faced away from Janeway. The captain took a moment to admire her handiwork -
Seven’s already perfect bottom was even more beautiful when it blushed.
Janeway reached out and traced her index finger down the gap between Seven’s
cheeks and felt some the warmth of her rear end.

“How are you, Seven,” Janeway asked and the former Borg drone turned to face
her.

“My rear end stings and, below the surface, it aches a bit as well. I do
not think it would feel good to sit down right now.” She hesitated. “I also
feel an unfamiliar emotion. I believe it is called shame. I do not recall
feeling this before. I have felt embarrassment several times since coming
aboard Voyager, but this sensation is different. Is that what I am supposed
to feel?”

“Yes, Seven. Your bottom will feel better in a while, definitely by morning.
But it may remain a little colorful for a while.” Janeway could not suppress
a grin.

“I will keep you apprised of its condition, captain,” Seven said, beginning
to re-dress.

“No need. What I do need is for you to resume working on the Astrometrics
charting with Lieutenant Paris at 0800 hours tomorrow. Understood?”

Seven nodded her assent and finished dressing.

“You can go, Seven. I think you need to spend some time in your re-generation
chamber.”

Seven walked toward the door and then turned back.

“Captain?”

“Yes, Seven, what is it?”

“Are you going to spank me again?”

“If you require it. Do you think it will be necessary?”

“It may,” Seven replied. She hesitated in the doorway, letting it open and
shut.

“Is there something else, Seven?”

“Yes . . . I . . . Thank you.”

Janeway, as usual could not take her eyes off of Seven of Nine as she left
the captain’s quarters.

TO BE CONTINUED

    

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