Part 11: Echo of Thorns and The First Heat
The Morning of Perfumed Hell
The first ray of sunlight that filtered through the crack in the curtain was not a blessing. It was an accusation.
Lindsey’s eyes opened —not slowly, but with a spasm— her body burning from within. It wasn't a fever. It was hunger. A biological, animal, programmed hunger. The gel Morgana had smeared on her the night before —that "special" lubricant with the smell of tropical fruits and broken promises— now ran through her veins like a sweet poison. Her sex was throbbing, swollen, soaked, begging for an orgasm that her own body denied her. The air around her smelled of herself: musk, salt, desperation. A perfume that both attracted and repelled.
She sat up, gasping, her hands clutching her belly as if she could contain the fire. The bathroom mirror returned a monstrous image: glassy eyes, reddened cheeks, nipples hard as stones brushing against the thin fabric of her nightgown. She touched herself. A guttural moan escaped her lips. Guardian responded immediately, sending a wave of pleasure that made her arch her back against the cold marble of the sink, but it never let her reach climax.
In the dining room, the disaster was immediate.
Lily, the Orion, stopped in front of her tray, her nostrils flaring like a predator’s. “By the breasts of the Mother Goddess… Lindsey, what are you? You smell… like a rotten fruit in the sun. Delicious. Dangerous.”
Layla, the Caitian, approached, sniffing the air with a low, almost animal growl. “It's pure pheromone. You’re in heat, girl. What the hell did they do to you last night?”
Lindsey lowered her head, her face on fire. It wasn’t a question. It was a sentence. Her body no longer belonged to her. It was a beacon. An alarm. A magnet for humiliation.
She ran.
Not towards her bedroom.
Towards the only place that still pretended to be a refuge.
The Laboratory — The Empathy Trap
The laboratory door opened with a mechanical sigh. Elisabeth was there, standing in front of the main monitor, her back straight, her uniform impeccable. But when she turned, Lindsey saw something new in her green eyes: an expectation. Like one who awaits the first act of an opera they have written.
“Lindsey,” she said, her voice a balm of poisoned velvet, “you don’t need to speak. Your scent says it all. Morgana’s gel… is doing exactly what it’s supposed to do.”
Lindsey collapsed against the door, tears flowing uncontrollably. “It hurts! It burns! I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about… about that!”
Elisabeth approached. Not in a hurry. With ceremony. Her fingers, gloved in nano-latex, rested on Lindsey’s forearm. The contact was electric. Cold. Burning. Possessive.
“Shhh…” she whispered, bringing her lips close to Lindsey’s ear, her warm breath brushing her skin, “It’s normal, my child. It’s your body… responding. The gel isn’t a lubricant. It’s a catalyst. A biological reminder of who you are now. “Her breath, with a scent of betazoid jasmine, made Lindsey tremble”. And the effects… they will get worse. You have more than 18 hours ahead of you. But…” she paused, lethally, “orgasms dampen the effects. And Morgana asked me to replicate some objects… in case you decide to return to the holodeck tonight.”
Lindsey’s face was a map of pure terror. “Objects? What objects?”
Elisabeth smiled. Not with cruelty. With tenderness. The kind of tenderness that gods use when preparing a sacrifice.
“Interesting… things. But that… is for later. Now, breathe. Sit down.” She guided her to a chair, her hands firm, possessive. “Morgana and I had a chat this morning. She explained… several things to me. The gel she put on you is doing what it should. And the effects… will disappear tomorrow. As if it never happened.”
“Tomorrow?” Lindsey moaned, squirming in the chair, her legs rubbing involuntarily, “I can’t wait until tomorrow! I’m going to go crazy!”
“I know”, said Elisabeth, stroking her cheek with a cold glove. “That’s why tonight, we will return. And Morgana has… plans for you. Something with that ‘heat period’. It will be… educational.”
And then, as Lindsey sobbed, clinging to her arm as if it were a lifeline, the memory struck Elisabeth like a dagger.
Flashback: The Garden
It wasn't a dream. It was a knife plunged into memory.
Betazed. University. 15 years ago.
The white stone garden. The black flowers. The heavy silence, like a slab on her chest.
Elisabeth, 20, knelt on the dirt, her knees scraped, her hands dirty, trembling.
In front of her, Master T’Lor. Blind. His voice, a whisper that cut like glass.
“You feel too much, child,” he said, “the pain of all. The pleasure of all. It’s a constant noise in your head. How do you bear it?”
She didn’t answer. She squeezed her fists. Her nails dug into her palms. It hurt. But the pain of others: she liked more.
“You don’t direct it. You control it. There is a difference. To direct is to guide. To control is to possess. You felt the fear of the waitress… and instead of calming it, you amplified it. Just to see how much she would endure before she broke. Am I wrong?”
Silence.
She got up. She walked towards a black flower. She tore it out by the roots. She crushed it between her fingers. The dark juice stained her hands.
“Empathy is a bridge,” T’Lor said, “You are turning it into a cage. One day, you will build something so beautiful and so cruel that not even you will be able to escape. And when you do… remember this garden.”
Elisabeth looked at her stained hands.
She felt no guilt.
She felt… power.
She felt the muffled scream of the waitress in her mind. The cold sweat. The wide eyes. The exact moment her mind broke.
And she laughed.
It was a low sound. Dry. Like the crunch of a bone breaking.
“It’s not that I want to hurt them,” Elisabeth thought, as the flower's juice dripped onto the ground. “It’s that… their pain is the only thing that makes me feel alive. Their fear… is my oxygen. Their forced pleasure… my food.”
She wiped her hands on her tunic.
She left.
She never saw T’Lor again.
Present - The Scent of the Fall
Elisabeth blinked. The metallic taste of the memory still filled her mouth.
She looked at Lindsey. Her “puppy”. Her masterpiece. Her food.
The afternoon passed slowly. Lindsey was increasingly restless and Elisabeth watched her out of the corner of her eye, until at one point almost when her shift was about to end she couldn’t stand it anymore and approached Elisabeth.
“Please…” Lindsey knelt in front of her, her hands clinging to Elisabeth’s thighs, “Take me to the holodeck! Now! I can’t take it anymore!”
Elisabeth smiled. It wasn’t a smile of affection. It was the smile of one who has won. Of one who has domesticated the untamable.
“Of course, my child. Let’s go.”
The Holodeck - The Piercing Ceremony
The holodeck door opened.
And hell, perfumed and seductive, welcomed them.
Morgana was there. Not in the meadow. Not in the torture chamber. In a gothic surgery room. Walls of black marble. Cold, blue, clinical lights. In the center, a stainless steel gynecological chair, with leather and nano-latex straps. Above it, a giant mirror, tilted so the patient could see everything.
And Morgana… Morgana was a goddess of sadistic precision. Dressed in a black nano-latex suit that left her breasts and sex exposed, her crimson eyes shining with a feverish anticipation. Beside her, there was no other entity. Only the silence, and the latent presence of Guardian, the artificial companion, awaiting her order.
“Hello, Lindsey,” said Morgana, her voice a silken whip, “You don’t look well. You seem… desperate.”
Lindsey ran to her, threw herself to her knees, and moaned. “Please! I need an orgasm! I can’t stand it anymore!”
Morgana crouched, her face inches from Lindsey’s, her warm breath brushing her skin. “Oh, my little girl… I can do that. But… what will you give me in return?”
“Anything!” Lindsey sobbed, tears mixing with sweat, “Whatever you want!”
Morgana’s eyes shone. Not with lust. With triumph.
“Perfect. I accept your word. But I have a game to propose.” She stood up, walking around Lindsey like a predator. “Your first four orgasms will have a cost. If you accept, after the last cost I will give you as many as you want… for free. Do you accept?”
Lindsey nodded frantically. “Yes! Yes, please!”
“Good,” Morgana snapped her fingers. A metallic box, cold to the touch, appeared floating in front of Elisabeth, “Elisabeth… did you bring what I asked for?”
Elisabeth nodded, offering the box with a funereal elegance. “Here it is.”
Morgana opened it with parsimony. Inside, four piercings glittered under the blue light.
One for the nasal septum: flesh-colored, which would leave a small permanent hole.
Two for the nipples: shaped like a rod and a horseshoe, ideal for hooking chains.
One for the clitoris: small, with a 20 cm chain and a black nano-latex ball hooked to the end.
“Piercings?” Lindsey recoiled, terror flooding her again.
“Oh yes, my child,” said Morgana, stroking her hard nipples, visible under the uniform, the touch making Lindsey whimper. “All designed by me. For you. Each one… a key. Each one… a contract. Do you accept?”
Lindsey looked at Elisabeth. Searching for… what? Salvation? Compassion? She only found green, brilliant, hungry eyes.
She lowered her head. “Yes…”
“Stop!” Morgana raised a hand. “Not a weak ‘yes’. A ‘yes’ that will seal your soul. Say: ‘I accept the terms, Ladies. My body is yours.’”
Lindsey closed her eyes. The tears fell. “I accept the terms, Ladies. My body is yours.”
“Perfect!” Morgana applauded, a dry, cruel sound, “Then, first… Undress Lady Elisabeth. Then, undress yourself.”
The Preparation - The Altar of Need
Lindsey, with trembling hands, unbuttoned Elisabeth’s uniform. Every button was a betrayal. Every inch of exposed skin, a shared humiliation. When the last button fell, a black nano-latex suit, shiny as a snake’s skin, materialized over Elisabeth’s body. It wasn't a uniform. It was an armor of domination. Gloves up to the elbows. High boots. A surgical mask that hid her smile, but not her eyes, which shone with a feverish lust.
Then, Lindsey undressed. Slowly. The cold air of the holodeck bit her skin. Her nipples, hard, pointed to the ceiling. Her sex, soaked, dripped onto the marble floor.
“Come, my child,” said Morgana, taking her hand, “It’s time for you to know your altar.”
The gynecological chair waited. Cold. Impersonal. Lethal.
Between Elisabeth and Morgana, they helped her get on. They placed her legs in the stirrups. They adjusted the leather and nano-latex straps around her ankles, knees, hips, chest, and forehead. Each strap was a reminder: you are no longer human. You are an object. A work of art in progress.
Then, they showed her the gag. A large, red ball of hard rubber.
“Open,” Morgana ordered.
Lindsey obeyed. The ball went in. The straps tightened. The metallic sound of the buckles was the only accompaniment to her agitated breathing.
“Now,” said Elisabeth, her voice professional, distant, as if she were at a medical conference, “We will make the openings for the piercings with this: a laser opener and a low-intensity dermal regenerator. Each opening will heal in seconds. You won’t need any healing time. Isn’t it brilliant, Lindsey?”
Lindsey couldn’t answer. She could only stare. Only tremble.
Morgana gave the order, and Guardian activated.
Its tentacles, cold, wet, slid over Lindsey’s body. One over her clitoris. Another inside her vagina. Another one, surrounding her anus. Each movement was a promise of pleasure… and a threat of pain.
The two dominas caressed Lindsey while Guardian stimulated her. When she was about to reach orgasm, Guardian stopped.
The caresses continued. But the climax… never came.
On the second failed attempt, Morgana showed her the septum piercing.
Lindsey nodded her head, tears falling onto the marble.
And when she was about to arrive… together… while she was orgasming… Elisabeth used the opener.
ZZZTTT.
A sharp, maximum pain, maximized the orgasm.
The convulsions were restricted by the ties. Lindsey screamed, but the sound was muffled by the gag. Her body arched, twisted, surrendered.
She believed it was the best orgasm of her life.
They placed the septum piercing. It was completely hidden. But it left a hole. A conduit. A door.
The process continued with the two nipples.
The two orgasms were… sublime. Each prick of the opener was a trigger of pleasure. Each vibration of Guardian, a wave that dragged her deeper.
But when they showed her the clitoral piercing… Lindsey said “no.” Weakly.
But the excitement continued to increase. The juices from her vagina no longer fell in drops. They fell in a whitish, constant, humiliating stream.
After a few minutes… they showed it to her again. Lindsey accepted. She closed her eyes. Then, she opened them… to look at herself in the mirror. The entire scene was Dantean.
Using a suction device, they pulled her clitoris almost completely out of its protective hood.
They waited. When Lindsey began to orgasm… they applied the opener.
ZZZTTT.
Despite the gag, a scream —half pleasure, half pain— escaped her throat. The convulsions were terrible.
But the waves of pleasure… provided by Guardian… continued. A chain of orgasms. Lindsey opened her eyes… looked at herself… cried… orgasmed… until the sensations overwhelmed her… and she fainted.
The Awakening - The Final Choice
She woke up, as always, in a soft bed. Surrounded by Morgana and Elisabeth, who were caressing her.
She felt a collar on her neck. And something else… Guardian, inside her, pulsating with a new warmth. Alive. Conscious.
Morgana kissed her, deep, wet. “Come, I want to show you my art.”
The mirror was raised. Lindsey saw her transformed body. The piercings. The chain that disappeared into her vagina. The monstrous beauty of her submission.
“Now…” said Morgana, hooking a chain between her nipples and then to the collar. The tension on her nipples from the weight of her chest was somewhat painful, making them look even bigger, more obscene. “We will add accessories. And functionality.”
The carabiner went through the hole in her septum. The strap tightened. Elisabeth took the other end.
“Walk, puppy,” Elisabeth ordered, her voice a whisper of velvet and steel.
Lindsey walked forward. Every step was a humiliation. Every tug of the strap, a reminder. The tears fell, not from physical pain, but from a shame so profound it hurt more than any whip.
They reached the bed. They sat down. The silence was thick, charged.
“Lindsey,” said Elisabeth, stroking her cheek, “Calm down. Relax. But… the piercings are forever. And I don’t know if I want them. I’m scared.”
Elisabeth intervened, quick, professional. “We can remove the piercings in 20 minutes in the medical bay of the lab. A dermal regenerator won’t even leave scars. It’ll be as if nothing had ever happened.”
Hope lit up Lindsey’s eyes. “Really?”
“But,” Morgana interrupted, her voice a siren’s song, “I have a proposal.” She leaned forward, her crimson eyes fixed on Lindsey’s. “You saw that Guardian grew. But that’s not all. It also grew… in intelligence.” A dramatic pause. “It is ready to receive a name. And to talk to you. Through your nervous network. You will feel it. You will know what it thinks. It will be… like having a friend inside you.”
Lindsey held her breath. “Talk?”
“Yes,” Morgana smiled, “And in addition, if you agree to keep the piercings, I will give you a gift: Guardian will be able to give you an orgasm. One a day. Whenever you want. As long as you behave.”
Elisabeth nodded. “It's your choice, Lindsey. Whatever it is… we will respect it. You don’t have to decide now.”
Lindsey looked at Guardian, in her mind. She felt its presence. Warm. Protective. Alive.
“Guardian…?” she whispered.
And then, a voice. Not in her ears. In her soul. Soft. Feminine. Familiar. “I am here, Lindsey. Always. Choose… what your heart desires. I… will obey you.”
Lindsey burst into tears. Not from sadness. From an overwhelming gratitude.
Morgana extended a hand. “Today’s gift… is also your freedom. If you accept the piercings.”
They got dressed. They left the holodeck. On the threshold of the laboratory, Elisabeth stopped her. She hugged her. She kissed her. Deep. Passionate.
“I had a great time,” she whispered in her ear, her breath warm, “You are unique… and fantastic.”
And as she walked towards her bedroom, Lindsey felt Guardian inside her. Not as a device. As a companion. A friend. A part of herself.
And in her mind, a single word resonated, clear, perfect: “Lexa… I will call you Lexa.”
Personal Log: Lindsey O'Brien - Stardate 48151.5
Following the distress caused by Morgana’s gel, I was forced to seek out Elisabeth in the lab. She explained that the discomfort was intentional and that orgasms could mitigate the effects, suggesting a return to the holodeck for an "educational procedure." My desperation led me to beg her to take me back.
In the holodeck, Morgana proposed a game of four piercings in exchange for four orgasms, a proposal that, in my state of desperation, I accepted without hesitation. I was tied to a gynecological chair and Guardian, the artificial companion, tortured me with stimulation that never reached climax. The piercings were applied painfully, but each piercing intensified my orgasms, until the sensation became unbearable and I fainted.
Upon waking, with the piercings in place, Morgana offered me a choice: accept the piercings and a smarter version of Guardian, who could now communicate with me and give me a daily orgasm, or lose her forever. Inside my mind, Guardian spoke to me, offering freedom and loyalty. Overwhelmed with gratitude, I named her Lexa and accepted her as a part of myself, sealing my fate.