mijan: (Kirk had a blast)
[personal profile] mijan
Title: “The Harder They Fall” (2/3)
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Kirk, McCoy
Word Count: 18,000
Warnings: Intense, hardcore, and potentially triggery. Complete mind-fuck.

From the previous section:

"No, it’s high time someone showed you your place. You need to be broken. And I know how to break you.”

*********



The man leaned closer, and his voice was rough in Jim’s ear. “Your psych report after that little crash last year was... interesting. You escaped from Starfleet Medical. Told your shrink how much it scared you to lose control. You thought that they were drugging you. Hated that you couldn’t just get up and leave. That was some really interesting reading.”

Jim was gasping, straining for breath where the man was squeezing his neck, but his throat would have been tightening anyway. “How... how did you... get those records? Those are... confidential!”

“You think anything in this world is private? Piss off the wrong people with the right clearances, and your life is an open book.” Then, right next to the man’s fingers on his neck, there was a familiar pressure. “Scared of being drugged, huh?” The hypospray bit into his skin with a terror-inducing hiss.

Jim clenched his teeth against the panic threatening him. “What was that?” he grunted, but even as he did, a tingling sensation began in his hands and feet. “What the fuck?” The tingling spread, and soon, it felt like every nerve in his body felt like a live wire.

The man leaned in close again, and there was a breath on his cheek. “It’s like this.”

Before Jim could snap back with a sarcastic quip, fingernails raked across his chest. It might as well have been high-energy plasma venting on him, as excruciating pain blossomed along the trails of those scratches, spreading through him. It was too much. It was overwhelming. Even the places where the whip had struck him earlier started to burn again, building and building. The brutal fingers dug into his skin a second time. Finally, Jim screamed.

“Oh, that’s so much better! How do you like that now, Kirk?” Fingers latched on to his left nipple, squeezed, and twisted.

Jim howled. “What the... goddamn... fucking... kind of sick... bastard!”

“Oh, you didn’t think this was going to be simple, did you?”

“Why are you doing this?”

A hand gripped his jaw tightly. “I already told you. Same answer this time, princess.” And the man’s other hand raked a slow set of scratches down his chest... down his stomach... and suddenly grasped his cock.

Too much... too much... “AAAAAGH!”

And twisted.

Jim was gasping and sobbing and writhing and fuckyoufuckyouletmegoFUCK.

The vicious fingers on his jaw and cock suddenly disappeared, leaving the echoes of sensation throbbing and stinging across hypersensitive nerves. Jim’s breath was raw and ragged in his throat as he desperately tried not to hyperventilate. The room rocked and spun around him. With the blindfold, he was completely disoriented. The ropes on his wrists seemed even rougher now, and the chill of the floor against his feet shot stabbing sensations up his legs.

Where did this asshole get his psych records? How much did he know? What else was in those records that could be used against him? And what the hell had been in that hypospray?

It had been bad enough being tormented from the outside, but this was attacking him from the inside. It was in his body, rushing through his veins... the ultimate inescapable torment. The only thing more insidious would be to wreck his mind, and it seemed like that was what this guy eventually wanted to achieve.

He didn’t have long to ponder it before Sadistic Bastard was back. A hand dug sharply into the pressure point at the side of his neck, and Jim screamed as his knees buckled. His feet were kicked wide apart and before Jim could gather his wits to react, something cold and blunt was pressed roughly into his ass, stretching with a vicious burn.

Jim tried to pull his feet back under him, but the hand on his pressure point dug in again, and he was helpless. Something was snapped around the base of his cock, cold and metallic. His neck was released, but his nerves were fried, pain continuing to stab through his shoulder and his neck, leaving him unable to resist as he was manhandled into what felt like a harness of leather straps. The straps tightened around his waist and threaded between his legs, pressing the thing in his ass even tighter. Finally, something was clipped to the ring on his cock, and the whole rig was pulled tight.

The pressure in his ass started to transition from the shock of the unprepared penetration into an uncomfortable burn. He moaned weakly, feeling beaten up from the inside out, helpless, and fearful at the sinking realization of where this was probably going. The whip had been nothing but a warm-up. Worst of all, and most deeply betraying, he felt his cock starting to harden.

“You delicious little slut,” the man’s voice mocked from a couple of meters away. “I thought you might react like this. No man who likes to fight as much as you do doesn’t get off on pain. So fucking transparent. You’ve got a reputation on campus - you just can’t keep it in your pants. I wonder what your conquests would say if they saw this.”

“You don’t know anything about the people I sleep with,” Jim gasped between clenched teeth.

“There’s not a damned thing about you that Starfleet doesn’t know. And what they know... I know.” Two footsteps, and there was a hand on the leather strap at Jim’s waist. “But I might know a few more things now.” He tugged at the strap. The movement pushed the plug deeper into Jim’s ass, causing him to yelp and squirm. Apparently, whatever drug this asshole had dosed him with didn’t just sensitize the nerves on the outside. His cock seemed to agree.

Under his blindfold, Jim squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the humiliation he was feeling. “Damned bastard! You getting off on this? Is this what they paid you to do? You just waiting to fuck me before you kill me, you pervert?”

“They told me to do whatever I thought you needed,” came the easy answer. “But my job isn’t to fuck you... or even necessarily to kill you, although I still might. I’m here to break you. But what’s the fun of breaking your toys before you play with them?”

The rough, gravelly voice grated against Jim’s ears, but the message stabbed even deeper. Sometimes, it helped to know what was coming. Not this time. Being killed was one thing. Being raped was another. But those were both their own ends... simple things in a sense, that would at least be over eventually, and all he had to do was to endure the ordeal until it ended. This was something else entirely. This guy wanted to break him, and that fact lodged in Jim’s mind like a splinter of glass. This wouldn’t be over until Jim had broken, whatever that would entail, and there was no way around it. This guy wasn’t going to stop until he made sure of it.

A dozen different possibilities flashed through Jim’s mind. The sting of the whip was still sharp in his mind, with the welts still burning on his back. Maybe there would be more beatings. The plug in his ass with the harness holding it in place, and he knew that was going nowhere good. The guy was obviously willing to drug him, so that was still a threat. Anything was possible, and as far as Jim could see - which, being blindfolded, wasn’t much - there was no way out of it.

No-win scenario.

It was a damned no-win scenario. A failure waiting to happen. His own failure.

Whatever this bastard decided to do with him, the result was the same. Jim Kirk was going to break.

No.

Jim was so lost in his thoughts that he startled when he realized the man was directly in front of him again. In a heartbeat, Jim’s fear spurred him into a desperate struggle. He balled his hands into fists and put all his weight onto his arms as he lashed out with his feet, kicking and cursing and flailing. He felt his foot connect with the man’s leg, causing an outburst of swearing from the bastard. He felt a momentary flash of victory before the rapid footsteps darting away from him told him that something bad was coming.

There was a familiar clicking sound, and it took Jim all of two seconds to realize what was coming. Unfortunately, it only took a second and a half for the man to come up behind him and jam the hypospray against his neck. Jim tried to kick backwards, but the man was already out of reach. Almost immediately, a wave of dizziness washed over him. The room began to tilt and sway, and it seemed impossible to keep his legs solidly underneath him. He sagged, and only the restraints on his wrists were keeping him upright.

Muscle relaxant, Jim thought vaguely.

“You must really want to make this harder on yourself, Kirk,” the man growled. “But then, you can’t do anything the easy way. It’s amazing you’ve survived this long.”

“Fuck you,” Jim said... or tried to say. His mouth didn’t seem to be working right. But even though his body felt weak and on the verge of collapse, the drug did nothing to cloud the sharp edge of fear. Based on the way his nerves were still screaming with oversensitivity, it was doing nothing to counteract the first drug, either.

But then the man was directly in front of him again. Jim tried to kick out, but the drug had left him barely able to keep some of his weight off his own wrists, much less to struggle. For all he wanted to resist whatever unknown, unseen threat was coming --to writhe and kick and fight back -- he couldn’t.

And then, something sharp was pressing against the skin of his chest, piercing straight down, burning as it embedded itself into his left pectoral muscle.

Jim gasped in pain as something smooth and sticky was placed over it, holding it in place. “Wha... wha’zis...” But without pause, he was interrupted as the same thing happened to the other side of his chest - a sharp stab, then what felt like an adhesive patch.

“According to your psych profile,” the man said with infuriating calmness, “you’ve made a long history of fighting. Nice criminal record for a Starfleet cadet. And you do a lot of hand-to-hand combat. Which means you’re used to being hit. That’s nothing new for you. Made it a bit harder to figure out what to do with you.”

Another needle was unceremoniously shoved into the upper part of his left arm and taped down, rapidly mirrored on his right arm. Jim was starting to feel the grip of a cold panic. “Wha’ are... you... doing...” His tongue was still clumsy in his mouth, but while the muscle relaxant had destroyed his ability to fight, it had done nothing to dull the over-sensitized nerves that were screaming all over his body. The bits of metal piercing his flesh seemed to stab to his core, with pain racing through his chest, up and down his arms.

A sharp stab in his left thigh. More adhesive tape. Right thigh. And a dark chuckle. “Hmmm... would it be easier if you knew what was coming, or harder? I wonder...” There was a sudden tug at the needle on the left side of his chest, and the sound of metal clicking against metal. Something thin and light brushed against Jim’s skin, and he realized with a start that it was a wire. “These --” He twisted the piece of metal in Jim’s left arm, causing Jim to gasp as pain shot down all the way to his fingers. “-- are electrodes. And these --” Another click of metal on metal, and the brush of a wire dangling against Jim’s arm. “-- are electrical wires. You’re a smart boy, aren’t you?” He slapped Jim’s cheek twice, just hard enough to sting. “Of course, that’s part of the problem...”

An icy splinter of fear twisted through Jim’s stomach at the thought of what was being done to him, and at the harsh reminder that anything could be done to him, while he had no chance of fighting back. This guy claimed he’d seen Jim’s psych profile, and now Jim was sure of it. Shards of his disparate fears - the blindfold, the drugs, the lack of control, the determination to break him - were being woven together into a brand new nightmare. He felt his resolve crumbling as surely as he felt the sharp bits of metal embedded in his body.

“No... please... no. We c’n talk ‘bout thss. Wha’d’ya wan’? I’ll co’perate.” The desperate whimper that escaped him was pathetic, but his mouth didn’t want to form words anymore. The man finished clipping wires to all the sites, and for the first time, Jim was almost perversely grateful for the blindfold, because he knew the visual would send him into a raw panic.

“Of course you’ll cooperate. You don’t have a choice. So, let’s show you how this works. Kirk... why did you join Starfleet?”

The question caught Jim by surprise. “B’cause Capt’n Pike dared me,” he slurred, too afraid to lie, too afraid to hesitate. “I want’d t’be somethi’g more.”

“Wrong answer.”

Jim didn’t even have time to draw in a breath before his nerves seemed to catch fire from the inside out. The pain radiated out from every electrode, shooting through his body like uncontrolled phaser bursts, burning him as his muscles jumped and twitched. Burning... he was burning from the inside...

And it stopped.

Or, at least, the very worst of it stopped. He felt as though every muscle and nerve had been rubbed raw and shredded, leaving nothing but the tattered remains. His ears were ringing, and somewhere beyond that, he could hear that man talking again.

“Let’s try this again, Kirk. Why did you join Starfleet?”

Gasping and panting through the pain, Jim said the next thing that came to mind. “I want’d t’be like my father... fo’ow ‘n hss footsteps.”

“Wrong answer again.”

It was worse the second time. Burning through muscle and racing along nerves like liquid fire. Drowning out the rest of the world. Screaming in his ears like the sound of his own voice because he was screaming, and he couldn’t stop. His body spasmed and his skin crawled. It seemed to go on forever before the active burn turned into the shaky aftermath of trembling muscles and twitching skin.

There were tears oozing into the blindfold, which was damp and rough, clinging to his face. Beyond the blindfold and the roar of blood in his ears, a careless voice laughed.

“Wow, Kirk, I’d almost think you like that. Such a smart boy, I’d guess you could figure out the answers easily.”

“F-ff-fuck you,” Jim managed to get out.

“Not from where you’re dangling. But here, I’m a sympathetic guy, so let me help you with the answer here.” A couple of footsteps brought him closer. “You joined Starfleet because you think you’re hot shit.”

“No, I -”

The electrode embedded in his left pectoral twisted viciously, cutting him off with a muffled cry. The man kept right on talking, in that infuriatingly calm growl, as he continued to slowly press and twist the electrode into Jim’s flesh.

“The rules don’t apply to you. You skipped the normal application process. Thought you could just waltz in and take the place by storm. Three year graduation plan.” He snorted. “You joined because you just think you’re something so goddamned special. Say it.”

With all those uncomfortable half-truths pushing him towards something he didn’t want to hear, Jim couldn’t stop himself from shaking his head. “I... no... I didn’t...”

A brief surge of pain through the electrodes lasted just long enough to make him yelp, but released him quickly.

“Cadet First Class James Tiberius Kirk,” the man said in an almost singsong growl, mocking and sneering. “Certified for two assistant teaching positions halfway through your second year, and you’re only using one of them.” Heavy footsteps moved around Jim in a slow orbit; the man was circling him like a predator toying with its prey. “Elite flight squad, even though you’re not planning to be a pilot. Xenolinguistics club, despite the fact that you’re not studying languages... and it seems you’re fluent in six. But you sure know how to cuss in more than that.”

This guy was dropping hint after hint about how much he knew about Jim’s life, and with every fact, Jim felt more and more exposed. Nudity was inconsequential; this man seemed to know everything. “How... who the f-fuck... gave you access... to my profile?” Jim panted, but he was only answered by another brief zap. It didn’t seem quite as bad as the previous shock, but it was enough to shut him up.

“And to top it all off, they pinned you with the fucking Medal of Honor because you went and got yourself caught by Terra Prime.”

Jim’s mouth fell open, and he opened his eyes wider as if he could stare straight through the blindfold. That was classified. At first, Jim had asked Pike not to make the award public because he hadn’t wanted the attention. However, only a week after he and Bones had barely escaped from Terra Prime alive, a reliable tip came through that remaining operatives were trying to find out who those two cadets had been who had managed to destroy the Terra Prime headquarters. They were on a hit-list, and so was the Academy. So everything from that debacle had been classified to protect Starfleet security information, as well as Jim and Bones.

Even if this asshole wasn’t actually working for Terra Prime, he certainly had valuable information that he could sell to people who wanted to see Jim Kirk’s head on a platter.

“I didn’t mean... it was an accident,” Jim stammered, only a little bit relieved to notice that his muscle control was returning, and his tongue didn’t seem so dead in his mouth. The muscle relaxant was wearing off. “We got kidnapped. We were just trying to survive. I never wanted an award.”

“Why’d you join Starfleet, Kirk?”

“Because I wanted to do something great!” Jim snarled, finally getting his feet back underneath him and making a lunge against his restraints.

For a moment, there was silence, then a harsh laugh. “And look at you now. How great is that?”

Jim opened his mouth to reply, but this time, he had nothing. Nothing to say. Nothing at all. Restrained, blindfolded, drugged, and wired up like a sick engineering experiment. He was weak. Pathetic. He wasn’t great. He wasn’t anything.

Then, out of the blue, he felt something tug and click at the metal ring around the base of his cock.

“What the --”

A backhand across the face silenced and stunned him just long enough for a hypospray to jab viciously against his neck.

“Ouch! What the hell is that?” He got his silent answer a split second later as his nerves began to tingle viciously. It was a second dose of whatever had hyper-sensitized him before.

“Can’t let you get too comfortable, princess.”

A distant stinging burn began in each of the electrodes... and at the base of his dick. Jim gasped, realizing that this particular torture technique had taken an insidious turn -- a wire had been hooked to the cock ring, too. Jim couldn’t stop himself from twitching and writhing as the burn increased until it was almost too much to handle. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding - AAGH!” The level of pain in his right thigh spiked suddenly, then quickly faded back to just below his tolerance threshold.

“Just something to keep you busy while I let you think about your career.” Footsteps began retreating. “Don’t get too bored in here.”

There was the sound of a doorknob twisting, hinges squeaking, then the door clicking shut just as a spike of pain lanced through Jim’s left arm.

“OUCH! Motherfucker!” He screamed into the room. Surely this guy wouldn’t have left Jim unsupervised. This was a psychological trick. A mind-fuck. The bastard had to be watching. “What the hell is wrong with you! Come back here and - aah! FUCK!” This time the pain level spiked through the right side of his chest, like a kick in the ribs, leaving him panting for breath. “What is it? You can’t handle watching your own handiwork? Come back and face me, asshole!”

His diatribe was cut off with an agonized scream by a sudden shock to his groin. His legs buckled beneath him and short-circuited any chance for clear thought. At the same time, he felt a jolt through his ass and suddenly remembered the plug that had been clipped to the ring around his cock. That part didn’t hurt, not exactly, but it seemed far worse. He growled through the pain, both terrified and furious as his cock began to harden. So it was like that.

As that jolt faded, Jim tried to focus. He was presumably alone. His hands were tied. He had only a moment between each shock, although the tingling burn didn’t really let up at all. This might be his chance to work his hands out of the restraints. But if he was going to do anything, he had to -

A spike of pain in his chest cut his attempted scheming short. It felt like someone was jabbing a hot spike straight through his ribcage. By the time it had faded, he’d lost his train of thought. Everything hurt, and he was already starting to shake again. His wrists were raw against the restraints. That’s right... the restraints.

Jim began tugging and manipulating his right wrist in the loop of rope... only to be cut off by another sharp pulse through his groin and ass. Taken completely by surprise, he jolted, and his legs went out from underneath him.

It faded back as quickly as it had struck, reducing to the underlying burn that never stopped. Desperate to keep a handle on his reactions, Jim forced himself to breathe evenly. The restraints... I need to try -- but before he could grasp on to the thin string of thoughts he’d been weaving, it was snapped by another jolt, this time through his right arm.

And the slow assault continued. He kept hoping he could adjust to it, get to the point where his body could tolerate it, but every shock was just as bad as the last. He couldn’t think. He didn’t have enough time to gather his wits between shocks. Soon, the world dissolved into an irregular rhythm. He had no idea how long it would take for the next shock to hit, or where it would strike him. In the too-brief moments between jolts, there was never enough time to get any sense of control over his body and mind. All that existed was bracing himself for the next spike of pain, knowing that when it came, there would be no way to stop it. He couldn’t curl in on himself. Couldn’t hide. Couldn’t move.

Eventually, he noticed that even his throat hurt, and that’s when he realized he’d been screaming almost the entire time.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, broken thoughts and images came to mind. Nothing coherent. Nothing that could help him escape. Just little things. Stupid things. In the brief, fleeting moments between shocks, it helped.

He remembered his first birthday after joining Starfleet, when Bones had helped him get drunk and forget, then had fixed his hangover in the morning. He remembered helping Bones get over the aviophobia... while Bones had helped him with his own issues. There was the time he’d whacked his head on the Parisi Squares platform and had ignored it until he’d passed out in Bones’ dorm room, and Bones had dragged his sorry ass to the infirmary. There was Bones smiling at him proudly after his flight team had placed second for the Rigel Cup. And he remembered his stupid escape from Starfleet Medical, and Bones finding him - against all odds, finding him just as he’d collapsed - and saving him yet again.

And he wasn’t going to be abandoned this time, either. Bones would help him. Bones would -

Jim blinked beneath his blindfold. His eyes felt crusty and damp, but the tears had stopped. His body was shaking, limbs twitching, but he could actually feel his body beyond the pain. He could breathe. He waited, wondering when the next shock would come and dissolve his brief grasp on lucidity, but it didn’t. His throat was raw and sore, and his entire body felt like he’d been beaten to hell from the inside out but for now, it seemed like it had all stopped.

Then the doorknob clicked.

Footsteps.

Jim opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say - some obnoxious, sarcastic quip to throw at this guy, to continue pushing his own defiance... but his vault of rhetoric came up completely empty. He wanted to feel indignant, but even that had crumbled. All he could feel were exhaustion and pain, leaving him shivering, trembling.

He waited for his captor to say something, to throw some insult or dig at him with another demeaning question, but the man didn’t say anything. Instead, there were suddenly fingers on the thin leather straps digging into his pelvis and waist, and the straps came loose. He couldn’t even react as, once again, his feet were pushed out to the side.

Jim whimpered, hoping that the guy was done with him, and would remove the plug and the ring and the electrodes and maybe he’d leave him until rescuers came. Or maybe he’d finally decide it was too much effort and just kill him. And then the plug was unceremoniously pulled from his ass. Jim cringed at the weak, defeated noise he made, but he couldn’t do anything else. He was too wrung out, exhausted, and ashamed to think that maybe this guy was actually going to defeat him.

Suddenly something large and blunt and cold was pressing up against his over-sensitive hole.

“No... please...”

There was no hesitation as the plug - larger this time - was slowly but firmly pressed into his ass. He tried to buck away, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know whether to be grateful or horrified that the plug felt lubricated, that the slick slide of it pushed its way in with too little resistance. All he could do was try to breathe as it stretched his hole, penetrating deeper until the stretch suddenly eased up as his muscles clenched around the narrower neck of the plug. He moaned weakly, and tried to push it out, but the straps had already been secured over it, holding it in place.

Jim waited again for the man to say something... to lecture him, taunt him... but the only sound was footsteps, backing away, but not far. He got the sense that the guy was simply staring at him, appraising, taking him apart with his eyes and deciding how long to let Jim wait for... whatever was coming next. Exposed, wrecked, physically drained. His nerves were frayed, his muscles kept muscles twitching occasionally, and he was just too weak to fight back. It was almost like surrender.

Surrender.

Something hot, a smoldering mixture of fury and shame, swelled in Jim’s chest. He’d stopped fighting. He’d given in to the physical torment and exhaustion, and he’d let himself surrender.

His breath felt tight in his throat, squeezed in his lungs, as he tried to fight back. Tried to get some strength back into his legs. Desperately wracked his brain for words to throw back into the room he couldn’t see at the bastard he couldn’t face directly. Before he could, however, the plug in his ass pulsed.

“No...” Weak and rough and breathy, it didn’t even sound like Jim’s own voice, but it was.

He clenched his teeth, waiting for the intensity to ratchet up, waiting for it to turn into pain, but it just pulsed again. It was intense, but not painful. Not painful at all. A tingling pulse that felt like it was throbbing through his ass straight to his groin. Straight to his cock.

The heat in Jim’s chest suddenly lodged in his cheeks, burning his eyes, as he realized what this round was going to be. Despite the sharp edge of pain still ringing through his body from overloaded nerves and the still-burning whip marks along his back and thighs -- or maybe partially because of it, if he was honest with himself -- he felt his cock slowly begin to harden.

A choked sob escaped him, and he twisted against his restraints, writhing as if he could somehow escape the deep thrumming that was pushing wave after wave of sensation through his ass, against his prostate. “You can’t... not like... like this,” he gasped out, too horrified at his situation to even care that he sounded like he was about to cry. He wasn’t, though. He refused to cry.

He was so fucking pathetic. He couldn’t even imagine what he looked like just then, but his brain tried to paint the shameful picture anyway. His back would be covered in red welts. Some of the whip lashes had certainly broken skin. Red marks across his face from where the guy had slapped him. The bruises he got from his hand-to-hand exam probably stood out in purple relief again the rest of his skin. And then, with every movement, he could still feel the thin weight of the wires tugging against the electrodes that were embedded in his muscles, as if they were only there to remind him of the fact that the shock treatment could start again at any moment. His wrists were bound above his head, and he was completely exposed. Completely helpless.

Buried memories of past terrors tried to push back to the surface, but they didn’t hold up. Those memories had been painted with fear. This... this was shame. Shame, because on some level, he’d accepted this. On some level, he’d given in. He’d quit, like the fucking failure he was.

Maybe he honestly believed that he wouldn’t escape.

Which meant he had nothing left to lose. Perversely, that thought alone gave him a surge of courage. He clenched his jaw in defiance of his own surrender, even as he snarled at his captor.

“So are you gonna... tell them... everything? All the... juicy details? Some Starfleet brass... gonna get their... rocks off on this?”

The only response was a brief shock across his chest, temporarily knocking the breath out of him. He gasped, sucking in air with a tight wheeze.

“Is that all... you can do? Just keep... hitting buttons?”

Nothing. Just the continued pulsing in his ass, tormenting his abused hole and straining cock.

“You wouldn’t dare... to untie me... because... you couldn’t... take me yourself... fucking...jackass.”

There was no reply, but over the blood rushing in his ears, he swore he could hear the guy breathing just a bit too quickly.

“Oh, so... you’re... getting off on... this shit,” Jim panted, trying to sound coherent, knowing he really wasn’t. “Does this... make you... feel powerful? Huh?”

He got no words in reply, but Jim swore the pulsing in his ass suddenly got stronger, and he tried to hold back a groan, which turned into a muffled grunt. “Sick... bastard! Just gonna... stand there and... watch! Ugh!”

“Maybe I will.”

Another heavier pulse from the plug thrummed against his prostate, and his knees wobbled. There was no way he was going to let himself give in to this. No way he was going to let his body actually become aroused by this man’s devices. He couldn’t let it get to him. Because if he did, that would mean the other guy had won. More to the point, it would mean that James Kirk had lost, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle that.

He could take a few hits. Broken bones, lacerations, injuries, pain... he could handle those. Those were things being done to him, and all there was for him to do was to endure it until it ended. But this was something different. Even as he desperately tried to will his cock into submission, his own body fought to betray him, and he didn’t have the energy left to resist. The ring at the base of his prick felt tighter as the blood rushed into his abused, hyper-sensitized flesh.

“Now isn’t that a sight,” the rough voice taunted him. “Are you something special now, Kirk? Just look at you. You’re ready to start humping the air for me, and all I need to do is watch. How strong are you? Can you resist? I doubt it. But let’s see you try.”

Jim wanted to snarl back, but if he spared enough attention to speak, he’d completely lose control. The man’s voice that had grated on his ears fell silent again, but the silent scrutiny was worse. He could feel the man’s eyes on him, and it made him shiver. And the shiver ran up his spine and back down again, lodging in his groin. He couldn’t hold back a grunt, then a moan, like a wanton slut.

He was so pathetic. Laid out bare in front of a stranger who was playing him like a puppet on string and wires. The ‘great Jim Kirk’ who couldn’t even keep control over his own mutinous cock.

He wasn’t great. Greatness was his father. Greatness was Zephram Cochrane and Neil Armstrong and Vespucci and Magellan. How the hell could he think he’d be so great? Beaten by the Kobayashi Maru. Watched his copilot die next to him last year, helpless to stop it. Victim of the demons from his past. Couldn’t recognize the threat living in his own dorm room because he was so fixated on grand conspiracy theories. Tripped up again and again by his pathological obsession with his own self-importance.

And now here he was, twitching and writhing helplessly as his captor slowly stimulated him without a word.

He was almost grateful for the impersonal edge to this. Glad the bastard wasn’t speaking, wasn’t actually touching him. He could almost let himself imagine that this wasn’t just another facet of some psychopath’s process to break him apart, wear him down, and expose every last private thing he had to hide. He could imagine that he was alone in the room, that there were no lecherous eyes witnessing his shame. Was almost tempted to give in to the sensation of pleasure just to escape the pain and torment that had wrung him out and left him weak and helpless.

But if he gave in to the escape of pleasure, it would mean that he’d let himself break.

Even as he fought with himself, however, the plug kept pulsing in his ass, vibrating against the rim of his hole, thrumming against his prostate. He swore he could feel it all the way to the base of his cock, but he couldn’t let himself give in.

Then he felt another shock, this time from the electrodes in his chest, and he yelped in surprise. It wasn’t painful this time. Not really. Just... stimulating. For the first time, he realized how close they’d been placed to his nipples. Fuck no.

The shock reverberated down his chest, catching his breath, and he felt his whole body tremble. Even though it wasn’t really painful, his nerves were completely wrung out, and his body was too weak. A crack tore through his determination to resist, and he gasped as his cock twitched. Even as he moaned a weak, “No,” he couldn’t stop the instinctive thrust of his hips into the air, his body desperate for friction.

Shame burned through him, and he shook his head violently. He couldn’t let himself do this. With renewed effort, he began pulling against the restraints on his wrists. The skin there was already rubbed raw, but the pain was almost insignificant compared to the desperate embarrassment and the need to curl in on himself and hide, to get out of sight and escape the cold eyes watching his every move. His toes dug for purchase against the smooth, cold floor as he writhed and flailed, scrambling for the impossible escape that was just out of his reach.

Another mild shock throbbed across his chest, just as the plug in his ass pulsed again, and he yelped, unable to hold back the wanton thrust of his hips. He tried to get his legs under him again, but another pulse left him dangling from his restraints.

He wanted to yell and scream at his captor. He wanted to hurl the worst slew of obscenities he could assemble in defiance. But his outward defiance would also be an acknowledgement of the fact that the man was watching his every move, observing his body’s betrayal. The guy was probably getting his own rocks off on this.

Another pulse surged through him, throbbing against his prostate, and obscenely, he felt the edge of an approaching orgasm as his balls began to tighten. Frantic and horrified, he pulled even harder at his restraints. “No! Stop, please... stop...” Another shock reduced his abbreviated mantra into a string of gibberish, and his cock strained against the ring around its base.

Each thrum pushed him closer. His body was too abused and his mind too overwhelmed to fight it. His hips thrust into the air as the assault continued from within. He couldn’t resist. He couldn’t escape it. The pulses became more frequent, the vibrations became more intense, and he strained and groaned against the onslaught, wishing it would just be over.

He didn’t realize the man was directly in front of him until he felt fingers brush against the base of his cock, and suddenly the ring was gone. It was the last tether holding back his unwanted climax.

With an unbridled howl of anger and embarrassment, he came hard and furious, spasming and jolting.

In the throes of orgasm, he almost didn’t feel the hands releasing leather straps of his harness; didn’t quite notice the slight tugging sensation on the plug until it was removed from him in one sudden, cruel yank. Still gasping from his own climax, he didn’t have enough control over his own body to resist as an arm tightened around his neck and a cock pressed into him in a relentless thrust, spearing him to the core in one motion.

With the arm tight around his neck, he couldn’t move, and he rasped for air as a hot breath huffed against his cheek.

“So this is Jim Kirk,” said the rough voice that sounded like a figment of a nightmare. “This is the man who thought he owned Starfleet just by walking through the door.”

Jim could only moan as the cock in his ass almost completely withdrew, then thrust back in roughly. Distantly, he was grateful that he wasn’t dry, and had already been stretched, because the press of flesh into his abused hole was thick and heavy, hot and forceful. Then he hated himself for feeling even a fleeting sense of gratitude for such a perverse favor. He felt used, thoroughly trashed, and worthless. And this guy wasn’t done yet, as he pulled back and pressed in again, claiming the territory he’d already taken by force.

“Can you handle this, Kirk?” the man spoke with a grunt, less controlled than he’d been before as he gave another harsh, jolting thrust.

“I can... can handle... I --”

The arm squeezed his neck just a little bit tighter; clearly, he wasn’t meant to talk.

“You’ve scrapped through your life, and then suddenly you think you’re so high and mighty. But this is what you really deserve. This is what people really think of you. You’re nothing but a fucking rag, you arrogant brat,” he snarled as he thrust hard enough that Jim almost felt his feet leave the floor.

Jim choked off a tight cry, but he couldn’t fight back. All he could do was take it. The guy was right. He was the bottom of the fucking barrel. One man had reduced him to this. One man had stripped him to his core, had taken everything, and was still finding more to wring out of him.

“You want to beat the fucking Kobayashi Maru, do you? You think you’re the man who can do the impossible and just show the world. And then, maybe the world will care about poor little Jimmy Kirk.” The guy drove forward so sharply that Jim swore he felt his insides shift. “But let me give you a hint, princess. The world isn’t going to step aside because James Tiberius Kirk waltzes in. And if you keep up this bullshit, this little punishment is going to seem like nothing.”

Jim felt a thin, keening sound work through his throat, and realized that hot tears were beginning to ooze into his blindfold again. The man’s voice in his ear was as relentless as the cock in his ass, and they were both just as viciously punishing.

“Yeah, Kirk... you think you’ve stepped on people’s toes this time, but this is nothing. You’ve stuck your neck out one too many times, and if you keep going, you’re not going to be able to handle the consequences.” Fingers dug sharply into Jim’s hip, cruel and possessive, and Jim bit down on his lip to hold back a tight whine as the man continued to hiss in his ear.

“You’re not worth shit. You’re going to push your luck too far someday, and you’re gonna find out that you’re not the hot-shot you think you are. And the more you keep going out on a limb, the sooner you’re going to break it. It’s only a matter of time.”

It was true. It was him against the world, and he couldn’t win every time. If he wanted to be a leader, he had to be capable. He had to be strong. He had to able to stick his neck out and win. But how could he trust himself to save other people... if he couldn’t even save himself from one man? He was so weak.

“Pathetic,” the voice growled, sending a harsh shiver down Jim’s spine. “You’re so sure of yourself, aren’t you, princess? But you’re pathetic. And all your prancing and risk-taking is going to lead you off the edge of a damned cliff, and you can’t fly. You’re going to bring down everyone around you when it happens.”

“No... I’m not,” Jim gasped out, but the words got swallowed by a choked sob.

“And that’s the real problem, ain’t it? All the people who are going to die because you’re too goddamned full of yourself to know when to stop.”

The man’s words were cold and damning, and Jim whimpered as much in dismay as in pain as the assault on his ass continued. “No...”

“Why are you taking the Kobayashi Maru again?” The man shook Jim harshly as he thrust into him. “Arrogant fucking daredevil - why?”

“B’cause if I don’t... I fail.” The words were muddled; the pitiful blubbering of a broken man.

“You already failed, asshole.”

“No!” he cried, trying to wrench himself away from the man’s grasp, only to have the fingers on his hip clench tighter. He gritted his teeth and growled. “No! I’m not... gonna fail! Not gonna... quit!”

“So who dies when you refuse to quit out there in the black, princess? Are you going to take that risk? Make it all about you and your heroics when there are lives on the line? Well, hot shot?” He shook Jim hard enough to rattle teeth. “Well?”

An image blossomed in Jim’s mind... of his father... no, himself, alone on the bridge of the Kelvin. Fires breaking out over the ship. Knowing that he was going to die. But he could save everyone else. It wasn’t over yet. There were people depending on him... lives he’d sworn to defend.

The image shifted to the Kobayashi Maru simulation. He was on the fake bridge, and he could see the Maru on the screen, with three Klingon warbirds between them. There were people on that ship, waiting for him to save them. They weren’t real, but they might as well be. And if he quit on them, he’d really and truly fail.

The failure wasn’t about him.

He’d thought it was about himself. In defiance of his own past, he’d wanted to be perfect. Prove everyone wrong when they said he’d sabotaged his own future and ruined any chance he’d ever had. He’d had an insane need to be a hero, as if that could wipe away every failure of his life. Fill his father’s shoes. Achieve. Accomplish. Exceed and fucking win, because he’d wanted to be the best for no other reason than the simple fact that he wanted it for himself.

No.

At the end of the day, he wanted his life to matter. He wanted to be that guy who put his ass on the line for something greater. He wanted to be someone people turned to in a crisis because they would know that he could do the impossible. He was the man who wouldn’t quit. And he would be the guy people could trust to bring everyone home alive. He was a man that people would want on their team, part of their team, leading a team. He could lead and motivate people, bring them together, and do whatever it took because he had to bring everyone home alive.

Because he fucking cared.

“I... I’ll do... what I need to do...” Tightness started to build in Jim’s chest that had nothing to do with the arm wrapped around his neck. The simple starkness of the realization was like a kick in the gut. The rush of emotion stuck in his throat, threatening to choke him. The air felt too thin, and the room felt like it was tipping around him. Behind the darkness of the blindfold, spots began to swim in front of his eyes.

That rough voice was still growling in his ear, pushing for answers. “When the shit hits the fucking fan, it’s going to be you against the world, and your overblown ego isn’t going to be enough. Do you think you have what it takes, asshole?”

Somewhere, from beyond the dizziness and overwhelming sensations, Jim heard himself say, “Yes.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Hips were slapping hard and furious against his ass cheeks, and the guy’s voice was strained and broken. “Think you... you’re so special?”

No.” He wasn’t getting enough air. Couldn’t breathe.

“Then why... do you think... you’ll beat... the odds, princess?” The guy’s words were punctuated with harsh grunts.

“B’cause I... I have... a team. People... care.” Lungs burning. Limbs going numb.

Suddenly, the man thrust balls-deep into Jim’s ass and held him tight, pressed fully against him from top to bottom. “Why would anyone care about you, Kirk?”

“‘cuz I... care... ‘bout... them.”

Jim distantly felt his legs buckle underneath him, but it didn’t stop there. His blood seemed to drain from his head, and the rushing sound in his ears drowned out everything. Somewhere in the distance, he thought he could still hear the guy speaking in his ear.

“Hey, Kirk. Jim? Jim? Dammit... don’t do this to me, kid... Jim!”


*********



(To Part 3...)

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April 2013

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