Day 17 - CNC/Knife Play - Star Trek

The belly of the great machine gave a few ominous, buzzing drones. It bulged with tubes and wires like spilling roots, hissed and gave off gas like it was wheezing. Of course, most of the cube up above would be well-manicured. Lots of negative space for new Borg to come oozing from their pods and to get their feet under them. Like a communal room or a hive. If the main chambers were like they were made by bees, the hidden interior was more like a wasp’s nest. It coiled in on itself, looped in an almost non-euclidian way. None of it quite made sense to the brain or eye. A wasp wearing the skin of a honeybee, that was a good metaphor for the Borg themselves.

Deanna Troi sat down in the incredibly ominous-looking chair and let it lock restraints around her wrists and ankles. She kept her mouth shut and her chin up as Six of Nine stepped around behind her and closed his fist around her curly dark-brown hair where she normally would have had it in a ponytail, then for his own pleasure wrapped it around the base of the headrest and tied it into a little knot that kept her from turning her head too far one way or the other. He looked down toward her with heavily-lidded eyes, only slightly augmented, and reached out to grab her chin in his hand.

“Now, good Counselor-” He started in a husky, masculine voice.

“Computer,” Troi interrupted. “Less emotion.”

“Error:” The computer chirped back, Six of Nine frozen in place. “You requested that the Borg torturer have a ‘passionate’ voice.”

“Yes, well,” Troi sighed and tried to find the right words. “I want him to sound convicted. Like his work fulfills him, but I don’t want him to sound like he gets off on it. At least not yet.”

“I am unable to distinguish what you mean,” The computer responded dryly.

“Think of it like…” Troi wasn’t sure how to distinguish it herself. “He wouldn’t choose to be a torturer if he had a say in it. Perhaps he’s actually quite a tender man… or was before he was changed. But since he’s compelled to be part of the Borg and to be a torturer, he’s decided he’ll be the best torturer he can be. Then, in torturing me, he realizes a passion for it he’s never had before, and realizes that the passion is about me in particular.”

There was a long pause as the computer tried to make sense of her request. Troi waited patiently, drumming her fingers on the ominous-looking arm of the ominous-looking chair. She chewed her lower lip idly, trying not to turn her head. Six of Nine remained frozen in place, slightly too mustache-twirling expression on his face. She could see all kinds of fun-looking terrible implements and devices sitting just out of her reach but well within his. It was just about getting those little details right.

“Would you like me to hail Lieutenant Barclay to fine-tune the simulation?” The mechanized female voice finally asked in a way that almost sounded exasperated despite the lack of emotion. “His grasp of Holodeck-tuning phrases-”

“No!” Troi immediately shouted. “Absolutely not.”

“I may not be able to create a simulation to your desires if the process continues as it has,” As a computer, it couldn’t tell her that she was in the wrong, it had to claim responsibility. But this was as close to saying ‘I don’t know what you want and you don’t know how to properly ask for it’ as the computer was capable of.

“Perhaps…” Troi considered for a moment, “Set his enjoyment of **** as a whole to a very low level. Not so low he would quit being one, but low enough he wishes he was doing something else. Then steadily increase his interest in his work the longer he does it to me.”

“Very well, Counselor,” The computer beeped in defeat.

“And if that’s not perfect, that’s fine…” Troi added. “We can try the simulation a few different times until we get it right.”

“As you say, Counselor.”

When Six of Nine unfroze, he pulled back his hand as if tormented, but also as if curious about why he’d extended it in the first place. He had piercing dark eyes, plump lips and a bit of stubble. He was muscular but not lean, looking powerful as the model on a sleazy romance cover. As he reached over toward his table of implements, the veins in the back of his hand and his forearms showed against his tan skin. He grabbed a simple pair of scissors, opening and closing them dispassionately but pointedly as he turned to her, looking her up and down in a predatory way.

“You know, if you don’t tell us the codes, this could get very unpleasant for you.” He commented idly.

“You’re wasting your time,” Troi spat breathily. “I’ve been trained in resisting ****. Probably better trained than you were in giving it.”

“Every Starfleet member has said that, down to a one,” Six responded almost a little sadly as he snipped the scissors in the air. His dark bangs fell just slightly past one of his mechanical implants into his eyes.

“Computer,” Deanna cleared her throat and he froze mid-snip. “Make him… five percent more sadistic, then run back the last few seconds.”

The computer beeped in confirmation.”

“-could get very unpleasant for you.” He commented idly, his eyes playful.

“I’ve been trained to resist ****,” Troi spat breathily, but put just a bit of terror into her voice. “Likely better than you’ve been trained to give it.”

“That sounded like a challenge,” Just the barest hint of a smile crept to Six’s face as he snipped the scissors in the air. His dark bangs fell just slightly past one of his mechanical implants into his eyes.

“You’re a sick man,” Troi breathed nervously as he stepped toward her.

“Maybe,” Six snipped the scissors in front of her face once before turning them down and cutting open the neckline of her uniform. Or rather, a hard light approximation of her Starfleet uniform. She’d left her actual uniform folded behind what had become the torturer’s table, next to the ominous bubbling vat and the rusty metal support beam.

There was a question that, as a counselor, she got a lot from young new officers who were serving at a station with access to the Holodeck for the first time. That was how people didn’t become addicted to it, didn’t go insane, didn’t experience some terrible sort of ‘pleasure machine’ withdrawal from reality itself. And she always had both a joking answer and a real one. The joke answer was that usage of the Holodeck was pretty strictly scheduled and regulated. You really couldn’t withdraw into it for long enough to go insane and reject life on the outside. The real answer was that, well, none of it was real. None of it was real in the way your brain could tell.

What you experienced most tangibly was what was real. You could eat and be full, drink **** and get drunk, but that was because the replicators were putting food and drink in front of you for you to put in. You could feel the touch of a simulated person or feel simulated grass under your feet through the photons stimulating your nerves and tricking your brain, and perhaps there was nothing that made that experience less authentic than touching real grass, which you perceived through those same nerves being stimulated. But you also knew which one was real grass. You knew which people were real people. A perfect simulacrum could not become deceiving because it lacked context. If you plugged into the pleasure machine and remembered your day-to-day life while inside, you would almost always choose to leave eventually. But if you woke up one day in a completely different place and time and were told that everybody you had ever known was part of the machine, you invariably chose to go back. There were two aspects that made one thing more real than another thing, sensation and expectation.

All to say that it felt like somebody was cutting open her uniform, and she could feel a little rush of excitement as the handsome Borg/Man’s eyes trailed down her milky pale skin toward her chest, but she also knew it wasn’t real. She could turn it off at any time, and because of that it couldn’t really scratch the actual itch, just the thing which resembled the itch. So, given the imperfection of the expectation, she was going to achieve as close as she could come to perfection of sensation. Even if it took her spending the next few months constantly annoying the computer.

Six cut her uniform down to the navel, then paused before taking it any further. The fabric of it still rested over her steadily heaving chest, maintaining her modesty. Slowly, he reached out and pushed one of the two halves aside just enough to expose an olive-colored nipple, glancing the cold metal of the scissors over her sensitive skin and making her draw in a breath. Deanna felt goosebumps, the skin hardening and pointing up toward him almost instantly as he kept playing the cold, sharp scissors just at the edge of her sensation. Then he reached up luxuriantly and cut down one of her sleeves starting from the shoulder down to the wrist until one great flap of her uniform fell away entirely. Her nipple poked out just barely on one side of her body while the other breast sat completely bare. He traced the tip of the scissors slowly around her collarbone until they found the top of her other sleeve.

“Computer-” Her voice was almost as soft as a whisper.

“Yes, Counselor Troi?” The simulation froze again.

“That part…” She took a slow breath to compose herself. “Very nearly perfect, have him press the scissors down just… the tiniest bit harder. Less than half an ounce more ****. Now run that back from when he cut away the first sleeve.”

Her uniform slid back up into place as Six’s movements rewound, then fell again as he finished cutting. The flap of her uniform fell away into her lap and left her breast completely exposed. Six pressed the tip of the scissors into her collarbone just hard enough to make a small divot in the skin but not to cut, then slowly traced them along her collarbone to the top of her other sleeve. He left a little red line along her neck like an autograph.

As he cut down her other sleeve and let it fall free, Troi couldn’t resist the urge to toy with it.

“Computer,” She spoke clearly this time.

“Yes, Counselor Troi?”

“Perhaps…” She paused for a moment and let herself fantasize. “Perhaps his scissors snag on the second sleeve… and he gets frustrated… so frustrated he… rips it the rest of the way with his hands.”

“How far down the sleeve should he get before he rips it?” The computer sounded almost sarcastic.

“I don’t know… say… three quarters. Now go back to the end of him cutting the first sleeve again.”

Her uniform slid back up into place as Six’s movements rewound, then fell again as he finished cutting. The flap of her uniform fell away into her lap and left her breast completely exposed. Six pressed the tip of the scissors into her collarbone just hard enough to make a small divot in the skin but not to cut, then slowly traced them along her collarbone to the top of her other sleeve. He left a little red line along her neck like an autograph. He started to cut down her other sleeve, but before he could finish his scissors snagged on something unseen and he couldn’t get them to keep going. His eyebrows furrowing, Six reached out and grabbed the collar of her uniform with his hands, then yanked it suddenly and violently forward, making her breast bounce as the sound of tearing fabric filled the air. Pulling violently enough to jerk her head forward and yank her hair, making her gasp. As Troi’s uniform came apart in his hands, Six seemed to pant just a bit, then wiped his lips and regained his composure. One of the two flaps hanging at her waist was even and angular, the other was jagged as a heartbeat, turning into little loose threads and still clinging to her wrist by just a strand. Troi’s mouth hung open slightly, her scalp ached dully, excitingly.

Six made a move like he was adjusting his tie, a small thing to nitpick but one she could get around to fixing later. This was where things were starting to get exciting, and the more quickly and viscerally this part played out, the better. Six got on one knee and slipped the scissors into the ankle of one leg of her uniform and moved the scissors up easily, then slipped his hand into the gap and ran it up her calve to split the fabric apart and expose her pale skin. He set the scissors down on his table and grabbed a mean-looking blade, pressing it down into the cut in her uniform leg until the tip pressed into her skin, right at the edge of comfort. As he cut up along her thigh toward her groin, his hand was steady and the tip didn’t move so much as a centimeter higher or lower, neither cutting her nor removing the tension it was building. The blade continued along her hip bone and then over across her low stomach. Moving across, his knife kissed the top of her crotch as it kept cutting uniform, just a hint of her black pubes springing from the gap like juice from the skin of a bursting fruit. Finally, he moved down her other thigh with the same doctor’s precision until her uniform was a heap of tattered, disconnected rags bound to her only by her bodyweight and a small cuff around one ankle. Kneeling in front of her, his face only inches from the soft white flesh of either thigh, he slid the ankle cuff up her knee like he was putting a garter on her, then pushed the knife between it and her leg, sawing slowly and methodically until it popped free.

“Finally,” He looked at her body hungrily as he twirled the scrap fabric in his hand, bringing it briefly to his nose to sniff it. “Now I have a better look at what I’ll be working with.”

“You think you scare me?” Deanna asked testily, she was breathing pretty heavily. “You think I’m just going to cry and give you what you want because a stranger is seeing me naked?”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re scared,” Six put the knife and the fabric both down on the table and turned around with a scary-looking needle. “You are going to give me what I want.”

“Ugh, no, Computer.” Troi looked up in frustration. “No needles.”

“You approved needles last time.” The computer commented impartially.

“I was okay with trying needles, but I decided I didn’t like them.” Troi shuddered. “Use something else the Borg have been reported to use, before we get to the main part.”

“Yes, Counselor.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re scared,” Six put the knife and the fabric both down on the table and turned around with an implement Troi didn’t recognize. “You are going to-”

“Computer, what is he holding?”

“The federation has not yet found a name for the device he is holding.” She reported factually. “This device has only appeared in one account of Borg interrogation. It is possible that use of it was discontinued.”

“What does it do?” Troi eyed it skeptically.

“The report was that the device attached pinching electrodes to the skin, which could then be activated to-”

“Yes, Computer, I know what an electrode does.” Troi drummed her fingers impatiently. “How bad is the pain said to be?”

“It was used as a **** device, counselor.” The computer responded flatly.

“Yes, obviously.” Troi craned her neck like she was looking for somebody that she knew wasn’t there. “But a **** device might hurt so bad it sends me into shock, or it could be more humiliating than it is painful, or it could be annoying. Lack of sleep has also been used as a **** device.”

The computer paused for a long moment before answering. “In his testimony, the victim described the shocks simply as painful. He sustained no long-term damage and spoke far more unfavorably of other methods employed on him.”

“Painful. Just painful isn’t very helpful,” Troi looked at the device and hesitated for a second, chewing the inside of her cheek before fidgeting a bit. “Have him use it, but set the pain sensations at half of what you initially did. I’d rather have to turn them up than turn them down.”

“Yes, Counselor-” The computer unpaused the simulation for just a second but Troi stopped it.

“Oh, and, Computer?”

“Yes, Counselor?”

“Do not default to him using this device next time we run this simulation,” Troi felt an excited flutter in her stomach. “Unless I specify to later.”

“Yes, Counselor.”

“-give me what I want.” Six took a step back over toward her and pressed the gun-like device against the inside of one thigh. He pulled the trigger and it produced a loud click. Troi winced. It felt like he had left a thorn behind on her leg. But as he stepped back and pressed another button on the device, an intense but not unpleasant shock made her leg twitch.

“Computer.”

“Yes, Counselor?”

“Lower the pinch sensation by… let’s say another half. Then double the shock sensation.”

“Are you sure, Counselor?” The computer didn’t sound especially concerned. “High-level shock sensations on the holodeck can cause-”

“Yes, dammit, I’m aware what they can cause.” Troi grumbled. “This isn’t the first time we’ve handled shock sensations.”

“Yes, Counselor.”

The thorny pinch numbed to a sort of ‘clothespin on the finger’ discomfort. He clicked the gun again, putting a matching one on the inside of her other thigh. When he pushed the button again, the shock was bad enough to almost make Troi jump up out of her chair. When it was done, she whimpered as she gasped for breath, legs still twitching. Her clit was throbbing like it was about to burst.

“Perhaps you should consider reevaluating your resolve,” Six commented idly, seeming to reload the gun. “That shock seemed like more than you were ready for, and I have a good many more of these caps.”

“It caught me off guard, that’s for sure,” Troi straightened up and spat. “Here I thought you were trying to **** me, not tease me.”

Despite her tough talk, Troi bit her lip as Six stepped forward and pressed the gun first against the base of her stomach, right above the top of her bush, then lower down, just above where her clit was throbbing away. Centimeters from her pussy but not touching it, close enough without being there that it couldn’t have been an accidental placement. As he went back to the table, Troi could see that he did, indeed, have a lot more of them. She had thought he was going to do it consistently, two more and shock again, let her figure out where she wanted to get off the ride. But he put another one over either nipple before shocking her again.

Pain, full-body pain as her back arched and her limbs went stiff in their restraints, neck jerking forward and making her scalp hurt so much worse. He let the shock drag on for just a second longer than usual and Troi felt her eyes crossing. When he finally dropped it, Troi fell limply in place for a second, shuddering and trying to catch a breath that had been punched out of her. Not only did the spots with the caps throb, but the areas around them were throbbing. Troi could practically feel her heartbeat in the whole of her body. Especially in her nipples, her stomach, the insides of her thighs. The suggestion of it in her crotch but not quite the actual thing.

“Compu… puter…” She finally managed to sputter as Six was reloading his gun.

“Yes, Counselor?”

With the simulation paused, Troi took a long second to catch her breath and regain her composure. She still hurt, but much more in a distant, aching way. One that felt weirdly gratifying. Her stomach was doing somersaults and it felt like she was going to puke. But the more she swallowed and breathed, the more the feeling went away. Her tongue had tried to go down her own throat.

“How about… these six are the only caps he has,” She said, watching the rest of the gun’s ammo vanish a second later. “And turn the shock intensity down by like… ten percent.”

“Are you sure, Counselor?” The computer asked, “Your brain wave readings suggest that turning it down thirty to forty percent would be-”

“No, ten,” Troi managed to compose herself enough to make it a demand. “The pain is additive, that was just slightly more than I like.”

“Yes… Counselor,” Troy might have imagined the pause, but if so, she had imagined an incredibly pregnant pause.

Six held the gun in his hand, looked at it in confusion for a second, then flashed a slightly sheepish grin.

“My apologies for my inhospitality, but I seem to have overestimated the number of caps I had.”

“That’s too bad,” Troi abused the benefit of her time to recover. To Six, it would have looked like she suddenly perked right up. “I was just starting to feel something.”

“If you need to feel something, perhaps we can stop beating around the bush.” Six reached across the table and grabbed a large, toffee-colored item. “Perhaps in your time serving your… Federation… you will have encountered a Klingon before.”

“If I were getting tortured by a Klingon, they’d have the information by now.” Deanna teased.

“Any meetings you have had with them, it is unlikely the question of sex will have come up.” He brandished the item toward her, “After all, with something like this between their legs, I doubt you would have lived to tell the tale.”

He was holding a dildo shaped like a Klingon’s member, though it was one that was already pretty heavily modified. To him, it probably still looked like one, but over time she had toned down the ridges, adjusted the angle, tweaked bits of the size here and there. It was still probably not something a human being could hope to take in entirety, but it was at least shaped in a way that didn’t threaten to turn a human inside-out any more.

“I’m sure it looks quite large to you,” Troi taunted. “Very intimidating from where you’re standing.”

“Well,” Six mounted the dildo on a piston arm. None of this was official Borg **** practice, of course, but it was hard to get off from just the shocks and the standard ****. “From where you’re sitting, perhaps the intimidation will kick in shortly.”

He pushed the mount under her chair. Troi felt the head sliding against her sex. Another little tweak was that, as if by magic, the dildo was always perfectly well-lubed. Ideally, sex was rough but you did still live through it. As he turned on the motor and the dildo pushed a few inches in, stretching the lips of her cunt wide around it and making Troi arch her back, wincing slightly, Six also grabbed the gun again. He pressed the button right as the piston started forward again, making her clench painfully around the already-oversized insertion and making it feel like even more of a stretch. She opened her lips and let out a creaking groan from low in her chest as her muscles clenched, her hair pulled tight by the jerking of her head. Eyes rolling slightly back. Her clit ached to be touched, literally throbbed with desire. The stretch was so nice, right at the edge of intensity where pleasure turned to pain, not an inch over. And it was ridged just enough to press so fantastically against her G-Spot that-

“Hey Troi,” Wesley barged in, “Do you know where mom put-”

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