NEW: TOS "Surrender" [K/S, b/d, NC-17] 4/?

[Killashdra]

Copyright (c) 1997 by Killashandra
See disclaimer in part 1.

***

"You're out of your mind."
A whisper, a statement of fact. Kirk's fear gave way to
something unnamable.
"You make me so."
The tip of the Vulcan's tongue traced the vein pulsing in
Kirk's throat, and the human fought the urge to groan with the
pleasure.
"Why are you doing this?" he gasped, pleading.
"You know why."
"No." A sob. A supplication. "Spock, please. Don't do this to
me." Kirk heard the tight longing he couldn't hide, and wanted
to weep with helplessness. "To us."
And then Spock's hands--those incredible, sensitive, knowing
hands--curved against the underside of his pectoral muscles,
thumbs caressing his nipples. Kirk grew instantly, achingly hard,
his arousal trapped between their bodies.
"You wish me to stop?"
Yes! Yes, stop. Gods have mercy, don't make me do this.
Don't make me feel this.
But the words did not make it past his lips, for Spock's hands
made speech impossible. To his chagrin, Kirk realized he was
struggling vainly to press his cock tighter against his captor's
body.
"Yes," the low voice urged, the Vulcan's breath hot at his ear.
Kirk's arms, bound behind him, throbbed in protest. Spock had
entwined one leg with Kirk's, bracing with the other; had pushed
him down in the chair until they were stretched almost full
length, thigh to thigh, belly to belly. "Yes, James. Feel how hot,
how good we are together. You cannot fight me. Let me feel
you."
And it did not matter that Kirk willed himself to resist, for
there was no strength in him to combat the licking flames that
ran through him then, through his groin and thighs and belly
and nipples. He made a sound he did not recognize, a raw
whimper, and rubbed himself voluptuously, helplessly, against
an answering hardness.
Spock's heat made him want to make that sound again, made
him ache for the feel of that silken flesh against his instead of
the rough friction of clothing. "Please don't," he grated out, even
as his head fell back and dampness surged from his own arousal.
"Don't." He hardly knew what he was saying any more.
Then, suddenly, the weight and the delicious friction left him.
"Get up."
Kirk fought for breath, fought for sanity.
"Now."
The word touched him in some vulnerable, deep place, the
sound of it a purr, a command.
He pushed himself up in the chair, tried to get his feet under
him. With his arms pinned, it was difficult. Then suddenly
Spock's hand was between his legs, cupping his erection, his
testicles, sending him racing up an unknown peak of stunned
pleasure. He sucked in oxygen and thought he was going to pass
out.
"Get up," Spock whispered. His other hand was at the small of
Kirk's back. His hold on Kirk's sex was a pressure that could not
be borne, or resisted. The human struggled to his feet, feeling
the hand at his back balancing him.
They stood like that for a moment, Kirk swaying unsteadily.
He could feel every part of Spock, that close heat, could smell
him, but could not make himself raise his eyes. He was
suddenly, painfully aware of his own nakedness, his utter
vulnerability. Spock was still fully dressed--still in uniform!--
and that awareness threatened to drive Kirk over some edge of
control. His cock was painfully hard in Spock's hand. He felt his
own copious fluid slick and unbearably erotic against the pulse
at the Vulcan's wrist, shaming him.
He started to tremble, couldn't stop.
"This is insane," he whispered, eyes squeezing shut.
"Perhaps." Spock's hand moved lower, cradled his scrotum
and squeezed slightly, emphasizing his helplessness. Behind
him, the Vulcan was holding to the strip of cloth which bound his
arms--the belt from his robe, Kirk realized dimly--pinning his
wrists against his back. "I find that seeing you like this I do not
much care." The words were hoarse with desire.
Kirk's legs did not want to hold him. The need for release felt
like a painful tightness in every nerve, a vibration that
shuddered over his skin. Did he need to come? To cry? The
needs were so many and so tangled up with one another that he
could not separate them. He swayed against Spock's body, one
breath from going to his knees. The motion rubbed his sex
against Spock's wrist, the edge of the blue velour sleeve, and
unable to stop himself, Kirk moaned aloud.
"Be still."
An order. To be obeyed. Sudden pressure on his testicles
that made him gasp with almost-pain, and need denied. And
finally, unable to stop himself, he looked up, met Spock's eyes.
They were glittering. A look he had never seen, never
dreamed of seeing. It touched that deep place again, that hot
center of his being that wanted nothing except Spock's approval.
Ah, god, he's beautiful, Kirk thought, quite apart from the molten
chaos that was consuming him from the inside out. And he was.
The generous lips were flushed copper, wanting, and Kirk knew
that the pressure of that mouth on his could have brought him to
orgasm within seconds. He realized he had swayed forward only
when Spock's arm tensed, and the bonds holding his wrists
tightened.
"Be still," Spock said again, a bare murmur.
Kirk was trembling uncontrollably now. "What do you want
from me?"
The dark eyes swallowed him whole. "Submission."
For long moments, the human could not breathe, or speak.
Finally he swallowed, and choked, "What are you going to do to
me?"
And Spock released him, suddenly, and moved behind him,
and apprehension and arousal ran through Kirk in equal
measure. Those hands encircled his hips, one in front, one
behind. The one in front moved between his thighs, pushing his
legs apart, exposing him, and the other hand... the other...
But then he moaned, and nearly collapsed, because those
exquisitely sensitive fingertips were touching him in his most
secret places. "Oh god," he breathed, knowing his legs were
giving out. Spock's hand was still between his thighs, almost
holding him up. And still he was touching, caressing... *there,*
and again, and Kirk knew that he was lost... knew that he would
beg for anything his captor would give him. "Oh, Spock..."
Spock's voice was a growl against his ear, rushing shivers all
down that side of his body. "Yes. You will say my name. You
will beg me to release you from this pleasure. This is only a
taste, my beautiful one. I am going to make you *mine.*"
"Spock..." The name was a wanting entreaty, low in his
throat.
The hands left him. "Get on the bed."
Kirk obeyed, never thought of not obeying. He felt Spock's
eyes follow him, felt his skin burning. He was starting to go out
of his head, and it was a relief. This was not happening. Could
not happen.
"There. Face down. On your knees."
Kirk drew a breath in sharply. What was he...?
His trembling reached a crescendo. Waves of tremors were
washing through him now. Suddenly he knew he was not going
to be able to bear this. He turned his face toward the Vulcan,
eyes down, fighting not to let the tears spill. "Please..."
Spock close, not touching. "What is it, James?"
Kirk's breath hitched. His throat was so tight he could not
swallow, could not get the words out. "Please, I need... I need
you to..."
"Tell me."
That voice, tender and velvet-deep, seemed to touch him in
vital places, a wash of shivery pleasure through his belly, his
groin. It made fresh fluid gather at the tip of Kirk's penis; he felt
a little slip down the tip onto the bed, knew that the other saw
it.
He knew, also, that he had never been so aroused in his life--
that if Spock had touched him then, anywhere, he would have
come.
Kirk's knees were leaning against the edge of the bed,
but could not go any further, for if he were to lie down now he
would be unable to stop himself from rubbing frantically against
the silken coverlet. He tried very hard to make himself look at
Spock. Tried to make himself raise his eyes. But the awareness
was surging through him, a visceral certainty. Spock. It's Spock
doing this to me. If he looked at the Vulcan now, he really
would lose it.
"Please," he whispered, fighting to make the words come. "I
need you to--blindfold me." Was he begging? He did not know.
He would beg, would do anything if only Spock would help him,
cover his eyes.
But instead, he felt those hands again, cupping the back of his
neck, soothing him there. And he caught his breath. Closed his
eyes.
"So close," the Vulcan murmured, approving, caressing with
his voice. "You are so close, aren't you?"
"Yes," Kirk gasped. Liquid heat surged up his thighs, centered
on his cock. The hands on his neck were bringing him higher--
could bring him over the edge. The realization itself was almost
enough to finish him.
As if regretfully, Spock petted him once more and then
released him. "Not yet, my beautiful one. I am not finished with
you." And his hands on Kirk's shoulders turned him, pushed him
down until he was seated on the edge of the bed. "Look at me."
It was not easy. But at last Kirk was able to raise his eyes.
And it was better than he thought it would be... easier. For
Spock--in the low light, those dark eyes hot with passion and
need, black hair gleaming, full lips flushed dark and swollen
slightly--was a sight that made him suck in air, made him forget
his own torment for looking.
And it suddenly came to him that he did not know if he
would ever be able to want anyone else.
His own lips were parted; he heard himself breathing hard.
As he watched, the Vulcan moved, one hand going to the collar
of his tunic. Spock opened the seam unhurriedly, eyes never
leaving Kirk's. "I believe you require distraction, James. For I
want to drive you quite mad with pleasure... and that must not
be rushed." The blue tunic was discarded, and Spock stood over
him all in black, the heat and the smell of him making Kirk's
breath come faster. His eyes were dragged, against his will, to
the distinct, hard outline of Spock's sex, and a wave of longing of
a different kind swept over him.
Spock moved closer, and his scent was a drug.
"You want to please me, don't you?" the Vulcan murmured.
"Yes," Kirk breathed. "Anything."
"You want to taste me."
Kirk's heart raced, out of control. "Yes. Please, anything.
Anything."
"Watch me."
And Kirk did.
The color of Spock's skin in that light, flushed with desire,
was something he could not have described. He ached to see
more of it, all of it, to know the planes and hollows of him. But
Spock did not remove the black shirt, did not bend to remove his
boots. Instead, his hands went to the waistband of his trousers.
It seemed to Kirk that it began to be real when the Vulcan's
cock sprang free, the heat and smell and power of him inches
from Kirk's face. That was when he felt something start to give.
Because there was no denying his own answering heat, his own
need. He shifted against the bed, needing, knowing. Spock was
going to fuck him. And he was going to beg for it.
Nothing was ever, ever going to be the same.
"Put your mouth on me," Spock whispered hoarsely.
Kirk shivered. And obeyed.
He had never put his mouth on another man's penis in his
life.
The first brush of his lips on the tender, velvet tip made
Spock gasp, made him sway a little. He braced his legs further
apart, and put his hands on Kirk's broad shoulders for support.
Then, "Yes," he urged softly.
It was hot, it was softness and steel and silk, and nothing Kirk
had imagined. The taste of Spock was absolutely the most
intoxicating thing he had ever consumed. As soon as he touched
his tongue to the tender place behind the crown, and heard
Spock's low cry of pleasure, he longed to take the lean hips in his
hands and pull that incredible heat deep into his throat, suck
him until he screamed hoarsely, until they both passed out.
But his wrists were bound securely, and the hands on his
shoulders could paralyze him in a second, could hold him easily.
Spock was still in control.
And his control was unbelievable.
Kirk closed his eyes, taking as much as the Vulcan would
allow him, stroking the underside of that silken shaft with his
tongue, learning him. He couldn't think. His own cock throbbed
in sympathy with each movement of the Vulcan's hips, each wet,
intimate touch of his tongue on Spock's naked sex. He knew that
if the Vulcan's hot, pointed tongue had touched him like that
even once, he would have exploded. But Spock was holding him,
moving with exquisite slowness, allowing only so much and no
more.
"Yes. There. Yes." Spock gave a soft gasp that made Kirk's
whole lower body ache with wanting. He shifted against the
coverlet, his legs spread, the friction of fabric against his
scrotum almost unbearable. Wanting more than anything to hear
the sounds of Spock's pleasure, he touched his tongue again and
again to the place that had made him gasp the first time. And
suddenly he felt it--a gathering, warning vibration. Spock made
a sound that made him groan in sympathy.
But the Vulcan pulled away, and his control filled Kirk with
awe. Anticipation flamed in his belly. Spock was breathing
hard, though evenly, and Kirk could taste the sweet saltiness of
Vulcan readiness on his tongue. He looked up then, into Spock's
face, and saw something he had never seen before. A faint sheen
of perspiration, gleaming in the low light.
"Turn over," Spock grated. "On your knees."
The obedience was instinctive now. With his arms bound,
Kirk had to get up on his knees to turn around--and then
before he knew what was happening, Spock's hands were on
him, pushing him down, raising his hips.
"Spread your legs for me, James. Yes, like that."
Kirk felt suddenly, incredibly exposed and vulnerable, in a
way he hadn't been prepared for. The fear rose up again--only
it wasn't fear of what Spock was going to do to him, not really.
What scared him was the sudden knowledge that he could lose
himself. He was helpless in the face of his own hunger for this; it
could consume him.
He had time for exactly three seconds of that realization.
After that, the things that Spock did to him took him to a place
where thought was not possible.
He was in some hot dark center of self. His nerves sang,
over-stimulated to a point of pleasure that he thought would
surely drive him mad. He could not separate the touches of
those hands on his ass, his thighs, in his hair. There were
fingertips at his nipples and teeth at the back of his neck. He
gasped and shuddered. And then there was a hot, firm wetness
lapping at the center of him, touching him, stroking the tender
place between his buttocks until at last he moaned over and
over and again, utterly helpless to stop. His desperation
mounted until he would have shoved himself against the bed if
he could; he was pinned by the hands at his waist. His wrists
were raw.
And then the tongue was gone, and something softer, and
firmer still pressed against the entrance to his body.
"James."
He was too far gone... far past the point of speech.
"You want me inside of you."
Kirk could only make an incoherent sound. His thighs
trembled with strain and effort.
"You are going to have to beg for it."
Kirk groaned. Hot tears of need tried to squeeze between his
eyelids. If he could not touch himself soon he would die. If
Spock touched him he would die.
"Please," he whispered, finding the word at last. "Please."
"You must say it." Spock's own voice was unrecognizable,
splintered with need. But he would wait. He was in control.
And Kirk was dissolving.
"P-please..."
"Say it."
He was liquid heat, magma running downhill, welling up from
underground fissures, neverending. "Please, fuck me... fuck me.
Fuck--"
And then he was, and Kirk heard a sound come from his own
throat he did not recognize. The pressure was a blade, sundering
him down the middle, liquid pain and stabbing pleasure. It
heaved against him, filled him, hot and slick and shattering.
He was coming almost from the first moment of penetration,
coming with great, soul-deep cries, one after the other. He was
not himself any more. He was only the pleasure, the blade.
He was the blade, inside, surrounded, mad with release. He
was the sheath, filled and giving and slick and tight. He was
Kirk. He was Spock. They were one.
He blacked out.

[end part 4]

[Jeanita]

Killashdra (killa...@aol.com) wrote:
Some kick-ass erotica that I'm not even going to *try* to describe.

I will, however, subject you to Jeanita's fantasy:

Killa hits the lottery.
She quits her day job and writes hot Star Trek stories all day.
Jeanita ascends into heaven and stays there.

Okay, better now.

J

--

[Uif1]

Jeanita..love your fantasy and second it.
The best and hottest I've read in ages.

Deb

[Kimbuk3]

I would like to third (is that possible?) Jeanita and Deb's remarks.

Is there anything more delicious than a new story by Killashandra? She
who walks amongst us mere mortals, but is clearly not of this earth. She
is the alpha and the omega. She is the goddess. And I give all thanks
and praise that she's into *K/S*!!! Life is too good.

Now, "May I have some more 'Surrender', please?" [Said Kim, holding up
her empty bowl]

[eeross]

jea...@cpcug.org (Jeanita) wrote:

>I will, however, subject you to Jeanita's fantasy:

>Killa hits the lottery.
>She quits her day job and writes hot Star Trek stories all day.
>Jeanita ascends into heaven and stays there.

I just finished part 4, and in the state I'm in, if *I* won the lottery,
Killa could quite her day job and write all day. My own needs are few.

Ellen
eer...@okway.okstate.edu

[Ari]

Do you have *any* idea how embaressing it can be to read that in a computer
lab with people all around you...

*deep breath*

Wow...

<burns incest in your honor>

Ari

[Susannah Mandel]

eeross (eer...@okway.okstate.edu) wrote:
: jea...@cpcug.org (Jeanita) wrote:

: >I will, however, subject you to Jeanita's fantasy:

: >Killa hits the lottery.
: >She quits her day job and writes hot Star Trek stories all day.
: >Jeanita ascends into heaven and stays there.

Oh, my. Could somebody do me the enormous favor of e-mailing me Part 4 or
something, please? It hasn't shown up onmy newsreader, and I have the bad
feeling it isn't going to.
(Can't read Part 5 until one has Part 4, after all. ;)

--
cheers,
--;-;--@ susannah };&)
========================================================================
The Devil, having nothing else to do,
Went off to tempt My Lady Poltagrue.
My Lady, tempted by a private whim,
To his extreme annoyance, tempted him.
-- Hilaire Belloc: 'On Lady Poltagrue, a Public Peril.'
------------------------------------------------------------------------
* Susannah R Mandel * sma...@fas.harvard.edu *
************************************************************************
"My God!" ejaculated Phelps.

[Annchgo]

It's embarrassing to read it even if you are home alone <fanning herself>

What's even worse to checking in here several times a day just in case
there's a new installment.

anne (wandering off to find ice cubes) in chicago

[came...@juno.com]

Please don't stop now, Killa! THis is fantastic. Steamy, erotic,
masterful...and that's just the title! :-))

I can't wait to see the rest of this incredible fanfic.

Cameron "Cam" Burnell
Conquest is easy. Control is not.
- Kirk, "Mirror, Mirror"

I am a man of many talents. - Garak "Broken Link"

-------------------==== Posted via Deja News ====-----------------------
http://www.dejanews.com/ Search, Read, Post to Usenet

[Mary Rottler]

In article <19970503100...@ladder01.news.aol.com>,
ann...@aol.com says...

>
>It's embarrassing to read it even if you are home alone <fanning
herself>
>
>What's even worse to checking in here several times a day just in case
>there's a new installment.

Gosh, thought I'd gone a little off my rocker, checking in several
times a day also, just in case there's more too . . . glad to know I'm
not alone . . .
Mary