NEW: TOS "Surrender" [K/S, b/d, NC-17] 7/7

[Killashdra]

Okay, last bit. Thank you all for your patience, your interest, and for
making me think.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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

***

Kirk reached his quarters with fourteen minutes to spare.
The door slid shut behind him exactly as it had a thousand
times before, but this time he stopped just inside it, stood very
still.
Did the room look subtly different, somehow?
Everything was the same, in its place, strictly regulation
down the line. And yet he could not escape the feeling that
something important was different. His eyes went to the
bookshelf, where Spock had stood, back turned, the night before.
The place near the metal screen, where Spock had touched him
for the first time. The chair where the Vulcan had first kissed
him... the bed...
You've really got it bad, he told himself. You're starting to
lose it. Get a hold of yourself.
But there was an ember of joy in his chest that would not be
extinguished.
He hurried into the shower, every nerve in his body feeling
like it was on overload. He didn't know what was going to
happen when the Vulcan walked through the door--had no idea
in fact. That in itself was a rush he couldn't quite encompass.
Would they kiss, touch each other gently? Would they devour
each other, like they had last night? Would Spock tie him up
again? Perhaps they would simply play chess, and he would go
quietly insane from wanting.
Perhaps Spock would meld with him.
He was already more than half-aroused when the water hit
his skin, and that thought made him flush with eager heat. The
truth was he didn't much care. He was going so crazy with the
need to see Spock that any or all of those sounded almost
unbearably wonderful.
The Vulcan had stayed down in the labs all day, sparing them
both the agony of being on the Bridge together, at least for a
little while. Eventually they would have to deal with that, too.
Kirk didn't know when--if--he was ever really going to be able
to deal with it. But they had both known that today it would
have been an impossibility. To feel that presence at his back,
and know he must not let it show, must not think about what
Spock had done to him the night before. To look up and find
those dark eyes on him, knowing...
No. Not today.
It had been bad enough with Spock fifteen decks away.
The water sluiced fragrant lather down his back and he
thought about how odd it should have been, that he had found it
so natural after all these years to love another man, to be in love
with him, to make love with him. He would have to take some
time to think about that one of these days. Try to understand
what it meant.
But in his heart, it felt nothing but unutterably, inevitably
*right.*
Realizing that he had been daydreaming a little too long, Kirk
rushed through drying off and wrapped the towel around his
waist. In the bedroom, his brain hesitated over clothing. A robe
would be too obvious. His usual off-duty attire--subdued and
boring and chosen to maintain command image--would hardly
do. He thought briefly about the tunic he'd bought on Altair, but
if a robe was obvious what would his conservative first officer
think of that clingy green silk? No.
He'd only managed a pair of black drawstring workout pants
when the door signal sounded.
At the sound he turned, his body flushing hot, something like
panic closing his throat. Then it struck him what a ridiculous
picture he painted, the intrepid starship captain utterly unable
to make a decision about what clothes to put on.
What the hell. He really didn't want to play chess anyway.
"Come."
And the Vulcan was there in the doorway, tall and elegant
and overwhelming in a loose shirt and trousers of gathered
linen, making Kirk feel, as he often did when Spock was around,
like a scruffy peasant in the presence of royalty.
Spock stopped in the open door, hands clasped behind him,
making a slow survey of Kirk's attire. He did not hurry. When
his gaze returned to Kirk's at last, the human found himself a
little breathless.
The dark eyes considered him. "From today forward," the
Vulcan said thoughtfully, "you should not be seen thus outside of
this room." He took the last step that would bring him into the
room, and the door slid shut behind him.
Kirk put his hands on his hips and cocked his head
challengingly. "Is that so?"
Spock nodded urbanely. "I could not be held responsible for
my actions."
Kirk closed the distance between them. "Would you care to
demonstrate?" His blood was singing just from that look. He
suddenly knew that not only did he not want to play chess--he
also was not going to be able to wait very long. The hours of
anticipation had him primed and ready, and just being in the
room with Spock was winding him up tighter than a drum.
"You are so impatient," the deep voice chastised him. "We do
have all evening."
Kirk colored faintly. "Yes, of course. Please come in. Make
yourself comfortable." He checked his own eagerness. This is
Spock. Don't rush him. Just because you've worked yourself into
a state thinking about him all day...
He made himself ask casually, "What would you like to do
this evening?"
"What is your pleasure, Jim?" The question asked just as
casually
And suddenly Kirk could feel him smoldering in his cool
linen, could feel the tension drawn taut in the other's body.
Spock wanted this as much as he did.
Perhaps he just wanted a little convincing.
So be it. If Spock wanted a deliberate seduction then Kirk
would give it to him, in spades. He lowered his eyes,
concentrating every trick he knew on his cool, untouchable
Vulcan.
"My pleasure," he echoed, one hand still at his hip, the other
tracing his lower lip thoughtfully with a fingertip. "My pleasure
would be... coffee and conversation, Mr. Spock. What do you
say?" He looked up at Spock again, daring him.
"As you wish," Spock agreed, playing the game.
Kirk crossed the room, not hurrying, feeling Spock's eyes like
a brand on his skin. At the synthesizer he paused, pretending to
consider. At last he looked back over his shoulder, smiling a
little. "Well, I suppose I'm really not in the mood for coffee,
after all. You?"
Spock shook his head. His eyes were hooded. "Perhaps just
the conversation then," he said, his voice just slightly roughened
around the edges.
Kirk felt a surge of gratification. Oh yes, my friend. You can
feel how much I want you, can't you?
As if he had heard the thought, Spock swallowed, his throat
moving almost imperceptibly. "What did you wish to discuss?"
Was that a hint of unsteadiness in his voice? Kirk turned and
came back across the room, slowly closing the distance between
them. "I had a talk with Dr. McCoy this evening."
Spock blinked, obviously not expecting that. "Indeed?"
"Indeed." Kirk moved closer still. "It was... most
enlightening."
"May I ask the topic?"
Kirk came to a halt less than half a meter from the Vulcan. It
struck him again that he had to look up to meet the other's eyes
at this distance--and something in him responded unexpectedly
to that realization, drawing the heat tighter in his belly. "You,"
he said at last, in answer. "You... and me." Spock's eyes widened,
and Kirk took pity on him. "Don't worry. I didn't tell him
anything important. He did all the talking."
Spock looked genuinely perplexed. "Regarding...?"
Kirk managed to keep a straight face. "Biology."
The eyebrow rose predictably. "I see. May I presume you
refer to... Vulcan biology?"
"You may."
"And what, may I ask, was the conclusion to this discussion?"
Spock was obviously uneasy with the thought of Kirk and McCoy
discussing such things.
Kirk sighed. "There wasn't one, really." He was standing very
close now. Close enough to feel the Vulcan's faint trembling,
close enough for Spock to feel his. "He knows about the link, you
know."
"I know." Spock's voice was hardly more than a whisper now.
"It was he who convinced me that I had no alternative but
honesty with you."
"Then I owe him one," Kirk said softly, letting his eyes show
how great indeed was the debt.
"The debt is mine. Entirely mine." Spock drew a an audible
breath, and suddenly his hands were at Kirk's bare waist, warm
and possessive, and the human felt himself sway at the touch.
"You are a sorcerer," Spock whispered near his ear. "I cannot
keep my hands from you."
"Then don't," Kirk said hoarsely, closing his eyes. "Don't."
Those hands traced upward along his sides, once, and he
thought he would die from the pleasure of it.
"You are so responsive."
Kirk heard his own respiration, uneven and heavy, catching
with each brush of the sensitive fingers along his skin, his ribs,
his belly. "You're making me crazy."
Spock touched his face. "You are making me want to kiss
you."
A sound escaped Kirk's lips, a soft vibration of wanting. He
opened his eyes, met Spock's, drowning in his own need and
love. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes."
He tried, very hard, to keep his eyes open. But the full lips
brushed his, so gently, and he could not help himself. He
moaned faintly and had to put a hand on Spock's waist to steady
himself.
The Vulcan drew back, and Kirk opened his eyes again, his
own lips parted, begging. Please. Please, I need more. Please
kiss me again.
"I very much like hearing you say that," Spock murmured, his
lips flushed, hands warm against Kirk's skin. "You are beautiful
when you say yes to me."
"Kiss me again," Kirk pleaded, the longing greater than his
pride. "Please, Spock."
And Spock's hand was in his hair, cradling the back of his
head, holding him, and the feeling of being controlled rushed
through him in a surge of memory and need. The Vulcan's
mouth came down on his, and then they were kissing for real, a
slow, intimate caress of lips and tongue, hot and sweet,
incinerating. Kirk groaned, felt something coming apart at the
core of him. His hands held on to Spock, pulling him close, closer.
They were one, mouths hungry for one another, the naked
warmth of Kirk's belly held close against the hotter, leaner
planes of the Vulcan's body, their urgent erections caressing,
pressing together through loose fabric.
At last, desperate for air, Kirk broke away. He felt that if
Spock let go of him, he would fall. "Please," he gasped, shaking,
"I can't wait. I need--"
Those strong hands at his back, the nape of his neck, holding
him. "What do you need, t'hy'la? Tell me what you need."
Anything. You can do anything you want with me. But he
couldn't make the words come.
Suddenly Spock had him by the wrists, was pushing him
backward. He went willingly, stumbling. "This, James?" the
Vulcan whispered gently. "Is this what you wish?"
Spock had him pressed up against the mesh divider now, and
Kirk felt him shift, saw that the Vulcan had pulled something out
of the pocket of his trousers. He tried to see what it was. And
then he did see.
A pair of security restraints, glinting in the low light.
A shudder ran through Kirk, and he thought he made a
sound, a low moan in the back of his throat, almost inaudible.
And Spock heard, of course. The full lips curved ever so
slightly and Spock leaned down to kiss him, a feather touch
underneath his jaw. "Give me your hand," he whispered.
The click as the second restraint locked into place made
something shift over in Kirk's brain, something vital and a little
frightening--and utterly, utterly erotic. He pressed back, feeling
the imprint of metal mesh in his buttocks, his shoulders. He was
so hard it hurt. Then Spock was leaning toward him, those
incredible hands on his hips, pushing his pants down. When he
was done, the Vulcan stood back a little.
"Yes, let me look at you. Let me see you."
Kirk had no choice, for he was naked now, stripped and
pinned before Spock, cock hard and nipples tight with longing.
He wanted to beg Spock to touch him--was afraid to for fear he
would only be teased more.
Spock unbuttoned his own pale linen shirt then, until it was
open down the front, the tails hanging loose. Beneath the soft,
cream-colored fabric he was all dark curls and taut muscle. His
body was compact and, to Kirk, incredibly arousing. He ached to
feel that smooth, alabaster skin on his.
And then Spock did touch him, and it was spontaneous
combustion, out of control.
That touch on his belly, his ribs, stroking him lightly as
before, only this time the rush of sensation that followed each
touch flooded through him in shivery waves of heat. Without
warning, the dark head bent and those full, sensuous lips were
caressing his nipple, teasing. Before he could even fully register
the first shock of pleasure, he felt the deliberate assault of
tongue and teeth.
"Oh god..."
And the attack went on, and on, until he was moaning aloud,
wanting to plead for mercy and unable even to form words. His
arousal was so great that he could feel dampness on his thighs,
his own pre-ejaculate. Involuntarily, his hips moved against
Spock's body, needing contact, and his cock brushed rigid heat
through the other's clothing. His breath caught, the first delicate
frisson of orgasm twining itself in his groin.
Spock pulled away, leaving him bereft. "Be still. You may not
find release until I permit it. Do you understand?"
Kirk made a sound which was meant to be assent. But before
he could think or catch his breath, that enflaming mouth was on
his belly, and moving lower.
"Spock..." it came out a sob, for that mouth was kissing his
groin now, his scrotum, the tops of his thighs. And he knew,
beyond any doubt, that if Spock put that mouth on him, on his
cock, he was going to lose it. "Spock, please..."
And suddenly he could not bear it, that his hands were tied
and he could not feel him, could not press his body into all the
curves and hollows of him, could not hold him close and kiss
him. Suddenly it was not enough. He needed more.
The Vulcan was crouching before him, pupils dilated, lips
parted. Looking up at him.
Waiting.
Kirk fought to find the words to express that need. He
swallowed, hard. Pleaded, "Let me love you. Let me make love
to you."
"You wish me to release you?" The deep voice was ragged,
unsteady, and Kirk heard the answering need.
"Yes. Please, I... I need to touch you."
For a moment, Kirk saw a brightness in his lover's eyes like
tears, and his own throat closed. Spock leaned forward, very
slowly, and rested his face against Kirk's thighs. His eyes closed,
then opened again, and he rose to his feet gracefully. He said
nothing, only reached up, freeing Kirk's hands with slow
deliberation.
Then the hands that had freed him pulled him close, and
Spock kissed him deeply, thoroughly, and the pleasure was all-
consuming.
"I want you inside of me," Kirk whispered when he could
breathe. The bed was under him, and Spock on top of him, and
he was not certain how that had happened but he did not really
care.
Spock's hands were in his hair. "This way?" he asked, his
eyes dark embers, smoldering. Somewhere he had lost some
clothing, for his penis was pressed tight against Kirk's hip, hot
and slick and as hard as Kirk felt.
"Any way," Kirk breathed, knowing only the need. "Every
way." And then, belatedly, remembering--"I have some stuff in
the cabinet."
The lean form shuddered under his hands, and Spock looked
at him, hard. "Can you?"
"Yeah." He knew what Spock was asking; can you wait? He
had gone past the point of orgasm now--pleasure was a high, hot
flame in every nerve of his body. When release finally came, it
would be almost like agony. But for now... "Yeah, I can. I want
it." He was the wanting, no room for anything else in him but
that.
He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Spock reaching
above his head for the tube of lubricant he had put there earlier.
He drew deep breaths, letting them out slowly, concentrating on
making his body relax. The Vulcan's breathing was audible and
erratic, and Kirk knew he was not going to be able to go slow.
That was all right. But he did not want Spock to fear hurting
him.
A few moments, and he looked up to find Spock kneeling
between his thighs, watching him with a still expression, his eyes
wide and full of light. Uncomfortable under that naked worship,
Kirk dropped his gaze--to a sight that made him draw a rather
worshipful breath of his own.
He's going to be inside of me.
Dear god in heaven.
Spock touched him, one hand on the soft skin of his inner
thigh. Are you sure? his eyes asked.
"It's all right," Kirk murmured, and drew his knees up, as if to
show that it was. As it had been when Spock had done it the
night before, that exposed feeling was the scariest part; Kirk felt
a little thread of fear, but didn't fight it. It was all right to be
afraid. Spock would make it all right.
He could see the Vulcan trembling now with the effort at
control, but the slick fingers that touched him were gentle,
probing, and it was a different kind of pleasure, no less
stimulating.
"Oh, god, so good. So good." And suddenly he couldn't bear
the solitariness of his own body, and he reached up, pleading.
"Now, Spock."
Then the weight of Spock, so good on top of him, silk, velvet
and steel. Kirk drew his knees back further, trying not to brace
himself against the pain to come, not really succeeding. It was
scarier like this, without the restraints, without Spock
commanding him, ordering his submission. Harder to give this
freely than to have it taken from him. But he wanted it, would
bear the pain to have it. The silky, slippery head of the other
man's penis touched him, and he drew a breath that tasted of
flying, and fear.
But instead of pushing inside him, Spock stopped, leaning
heavily on Kirk's thighs--and reached to touch his face.
A single, hovering moment of air and light. The voice,
touching him at his center.
Bright one.
Spock?
This moment. Love. You are.
Kirk felt the dissolution of control, the breakdown of coherent
thought, knew that Spock was over the edge now, lost.
Yes. Come inside me.
Yes. Inside--
Spock groaned deep in his throat and moved, and Kirk felt
himself opened up, filled, and it was all right because of the
hand on his face, because of his love, because when Spock
entered him all he felt was his own heat, his own silk, his own
tightness; and when at last Spock came in great, shuddering
waves of release, the pleasure was his, he owned it, and there
was no pain.


"Jim?"
A long moment passed, in which Kirk tried and failed to raise
his head from the pillow.
"Yeah?" he managed finally, figuring it would have to do.
Silence.
"What is it, Spock?"
"Nothing," a muffled voice said, from somewhere near his left
ear. "I was merely checking."
Kirk thought about that for a moment. And then he grinned
weakly; laughing would have taken too much energy. "I don't
pass out *every* time, you know."
"Mm."
The human considered. "I bet you passed out too, that first
time. You just woke up before me."
"Mm." Beside him, Spock shifted slightly, pressing more
tightly to his backside. "You will never know."
Kirk lay in the semi-darkness, listening to the Vulcan
breathe, feeling the steady rise and fall of that slow rhythm
against his back. It came to him, a blunt shock, that it had been
only twenty-four hours since his best friend and first officer had
come to his quarters, offered him a back rub, and concluded the
evening by tying him up and fucking him into oblivion. He
hadn't let himself think about 'no matter what,' yet... hadn't let
himself think about McCoy's hypothetical Vulcan females.
Happily ever after was something he had never hoped for with
any lover. There were a thousand reasons why he shouldn't
hope for it now.
Still, he couldn't help feeling the touch of forever at his back,
in his heart.
"I've never done that before, you know," he said at last, into
the quiet of the room. "Not any of it."
"I know," Spock murmured against his nape. One arm had
found its way around his middle, was cradling him loosely.
"Nor I."
The tightness in Kirk's throat eased. It was something he had
wanted to know. He fell silent again for a few minutes, testing
his own reactions to the thought that had drifted idly into his
brain a moment before.
"Do you...?" He drifted off.
"What, Jim?"
"Well... did you... like it?" His voice had dropped to a whisper.
"Tying me up, I mean. Telling me what to do."
There was a pause. Then, "Do you really have any doubt?"
"You know what I mean. Do you... like being in control?"
Spock was silent for a long moment, and Kirk felt a kind of
sinking in his chest, guilt and shame gathering. But then Spock
stroked his hair once, very gently. "I liked... pleasing you," he said
softly, and the human's heart expanded in answer to that
vulnerable honesty. "It was... most gratifying, to be able to bring
you such pleasure. Such release."
"You don't have to do it any more," Kirk said in a small voice.
"If you don't want to."
"Jim?"
"Yeah?"
"Go to sleep. You talk excessively."
Kirk half-turned in his arms, outraged. "*I* talk too much?"
"Affirmative."
"Look here, mister. *You're* the one--"
"Jim?"
"What?"
"Be still. Now."
And that was the voice that demanded obedience, that
compelled it, and this time Kirk heard the dark timbre of
pleasure, the soul-deep satisfaction.
He knew, then, that he did not need to worry.



[the end]

[Scarlett]

Killa,

I don't think I can adequately express how wonderful that was. (Of
course, that won't keep me from trying.) It seemed that this was a
natural progression of events, not at all forced or artificial in
timing or characterization.

Kirk seemed (to me) so clearly distraught and in need of something he
found himself unable to express, perhaps even to allow himself to
think of. He was very... brittle--and terrified he might break. Hard
to trust anyone, even Spock, under such circumstances. Some might say
trusting *anyone* with so much of your well being--indeed, all of your
well being, mentally and physically--would be foolish. Certainly I'd
be terrified! On the other hand, Kirk and Spock were bonded (although
Kirk didn't know this until he and Spock first had sex) so it's not at
all the same situation that we mere human couples would have to face.

I've been following the discussion regarding this story, and until now
I've been hesitant to add my 2 cents. However, here I feel I should
mention that I never got any rape vibes from this story. It seemed to
me that this was more a case of... hmm, how to express it? Partly
fear at giving up all control, partly fear of himself. Also some fear
at reaching out for something he wanted so badly. The first two I can
understand, and the third is understandable, too. What if a seer
handed you a piece of paper with the name and phone number of your
"perfect someone"? Maybe it's just me, but I'd be torn between
wanting to call this person down immediately, and wanting to throw the
paper away. Or maybe I'd just keep it, tuck it away in my desk, and
take it out occasionally, but be too scared to call. Suddenly
everything assumes a monumental importance that can be overwhelming.

I thought it was crystal clear that Spock would never have forced
himself on Kirk, had indeed taken the precaution of checking as
directly as possible to make sure that this wouldn't be an unwelcome
approach (the skin-to-skin backrub). The exact passage was as follows:

Spock was a touch telepath. If he had sensed any resistance on
Kirk's part, he would have stopped and never mind the cost. But
there was no resistance, only this vibrant, incandescent,
answering need--and every so often, a faint sound of relief Kirk
could not quite suppress.

I really couldn't interpret that any other way than that Spock had Kirk's
full assent and approval, however much the latter could not articulate
either (at first:). The way that Kirk feels about being dominated becomes
clear to Spock when the "spark" goes through Kirk at Spock's "perhaps you
will be quicker to obey me in the future" remark. Spock then acts on it,
a course of action which Kirk desperately needs and wants.

It's very like Kirk to unable to speak of something close to his heart
like this, too, IMO. Reminds me of the way he refused to talk about or
deal with the issues of Carol Marcus, giving up command of the Enterprise,
taking command of the Enterprise *back* from Spock in TWOK, death in
general, getting old, the death of his son, peace with the Klingons, and
doubtless many other topics that I haven't thought of. Amazing the man
could make conversation with anyone, when you think about it. :) Also
it's rather interesting to note that in all these cases, Kirk was
compelled to face the issues by fate or by his friends. Not quite the
same situation, I know, but I think such a track record certainly makes
Kirk's ambivalence and fear of his emotional self believable.

Then, too, there's the fact that Kirk and Spock have clearly never before
this point in time consciously taken one another into romantic
consideration. Hard to make a pass at someone you think might react with
surprise and disgust. Hard to risk a deep friendship and a good working
relationship.

At any rate, not to babble... I loved how well you conveyed Kirk's
internal conflict--and Spock's eminently logical solution to it, as
well as Spock's own feelings ("Kirk saw a brightness in his lover's
eyes like tears"). I also enjoyed your McCoy interactions.

I found myself grinning hugely at some parts, gasping with concern or
happiness for the characters in others. Amazing how deeply your stories
tend to get me involved. Your prose, as ever, is elegant and beautiful.
A pleasure to read. Thanks for sharing it.

-Evelyn Smith

[Susannah Mandel]

Scarlett (esm...@orion.oac.uci.edu) wrote:
[snip]

Oh, my... it looks as if part 7 has shown up somewhere. Could I ask the
favor of somebody who can read it that they e-mail me a copy? (I can't
see it now, and previous experience suggests that it may not appear on my
server for days. *sigh*)

Thanks to Killa, and to all. ;)

--
cheers,
--;-;--@ susannah };&)
cannot _bear_ to delay gratification.
========================================================================
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.

[Indrani DasGupta]

killa...@aol.com (Killashdra) wrote:

> Happily ever after was something he had never hoped for with
> any lover. There were a thousand reasons why he shouldn't
> hope for it now.
> Still, he couldn't help feeling the touch of forever at his back,
> in his heart.

Perfect! Thank you, Killa, for an incredible story that made me think.
And, squirm a bit. And, for touching a part of me that I had hitherto
thought was better left alone. I know better now.

Indrani.

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

[Danchors]

I have e-mailed Killa about my reactions to her story, but I feel that I
must offer my opinion on the ASC newsgroup as well. Killa has written a
wonderful story, one that captures the personalities of the characters
(IMO) while presenting a possible relationship that could never be fully
explored in the series.

"Surrender" was not only very entertaining (I felt that I was becoming a
little obsessive as I checked the newsgroup several times a day for the
latest chapter!) but thought provoking as well. Killa should be commended
for maintaining the same tone throughout the story despite the ASC
postings about the consensual nature of the bondage and sex she described.
It must have been difficult to not become too influenced by the debate as
she wrote new chapters.

Now, I'll throw my humble opinion into the fray. While I agree that
nonconsensual sex is not something to be praised, I think that Killa wrote
the story in a way that makes it clear that Kirk DOES give his consent. I
have to go by my gut reaction. When I read a story (any story) that
describes a rape, I feel sick to my stomach and most definitely would not
say I enjoyed the story. As I read Killa's work, however, I felt that she
was describing a loving and respectful relationship. The
dominance/submission described simply represents one possible way two
individuals who love each other might express that love.

Whether or not that is your cup of tea, it seemed to be a plausible way
for Kirk and Spock to express their love during that first sexual
encounter. And, Killa made it very clear in her next chapters that Spock
was extremely reluctant to hurt or scare Kirk. I believe that Killa wrote
this story in a way that let the readers feel the eroticism and tension of
Spock's dominance of Kirk in the sexual relationship without losing the
sense that Spock would do anything to protect Kirk from harm.

'Nuff said. I do hope that Killa continues to write, and look forward to
her sequel to "Turning Point." This story (Surrender), however, is one
that I plan to re-read and enjoy for a long time!!

Debbie