Part One

P/others, C/P eventually

NC-17 Warning!! This is a dark, dark story. Major Tom angst alert. Rape, violence, BDSM 

It's hurt/comfort, but there's a LOT of hurt before the comfort… so if you don’t like that sort of thing, don’t read the story  …simple ain’t it?

Paramount is God, all good things are Paramount’s. It’s not my fault Paramount want to waste such talent on het stories!

It had been a boring day at the helm. In fact, to tell the truth it had been a boring two weeks in Tom's opinion. They were flying through a particularly uneventful part of the Delta Quadrant. Seven had smugly reported from Astrometrics that no asteroids, meteors, M-class planets, sentient life forms, gaseous anomalies or interesting nebulas would be expected for the next six weeks. Tom was beginning to pray for the appearance of a new DQ nasty alien just to liven things up. 

He made another completely unnecessary and miniscule course correction and started humming an Irish ditty under his breath, remembering, with a grin, his drunken antics last night at Fairhaven.

A throat cleared behind him and he could feel dark hostile eyes boring into his shoulder.

"Cut the sound effects, Paris," Chakotay snapped, irritated not so much by the pilot as the fact that Janeway had decided to take the week off, leaving him to fidget in boredom on the bridge.

Tom swiveled in his chair, his blue eyes flashing mischief, as a big shit-eating grin spread across his face

"Just entertaining the troops, Commander," he drawled.

"I’m not entertained, keep your mind on your job."

"An amoebae could be flying today, Commander and you wouldn’t notice. There’s NOTHING happening," Tom whined, in that voice that drilled through Chakotay and brought out the worst in the usually staid Commander.

"In that case, even your limited attention span should be able to cope," Chakotay said, his deceptively quiet voice overlaid with sarcasm.

At Ops, Harry ducked his head to hide a grin. As much as he liked Tom, he couldn’t help but feel glee whenever Tom and the Commander locked horns, which seemed to happen even more frequently of late. He wasn’t the naïve young ensign he had been when he first was swept off his feet by Tom’s charismatic charm and he no longer was impressed by Tom’s irreverence to authority.

In fact, Chakotay had taken him aside and pointed out how much damage his friendship with Tom was doing to his own career. He had protested that he had the right to choose his own friends but the talk had given him doubts and although he didn’t really want to admit it, he wasn’t that close to Tom anymore. Ever since Tom had been seeing B’Elanna, he had not needed Harry’s company except as a whipping boy.

Take last night at Fairhaven for example. Tom had spent the evening getting progressively more rowdy and drunk, taking the piss out of Harry’s love life (or lack, more like) just because B’Elanna and Tom had had yet another fight. Besides, the nearest he had come to getting laid in the last few months had been a holograph and he still hadn’t forgiven Tom for turning her into a cow!

"Voyager to Kim! Come in Mr. Kim."

Harry jumped in guilty confusion to see the Commander’s angry face inches from his own. He staggered in shock against the Ops console.

"Sorry Sir…I was…um…lost in thought, Sir. Sorry Sir," he stuttered, a deep blush staining his golden skin.

"It seems that Mr. Paris’s bad habits are catching, yet again."

Chakotay’s eyes glittered dangerously as he looked at Kim and then Paris, then making a decision he swung to Tuvok.

"Mr. Tuvok, since it is so BORING on the bridge today I think it is a good time for training exercises. Ask Ensigns Wildman and Baytart to cover Ops and the Helm for the rest of the shift. "

Tuvok raised one eyebrow in acknowledgement and summoned the replacements without comment. Tom’s relief was plastered across his face until he heard Chakotay’s next words.

"Paris, Kim, report to engineering. The gel packs in Jeffries tubes 10 through 19 need overhauling. That should keep you occupied for the next six hours or so."

"But my shift is over in two hours, Commander," Tom spluttered.

"Well it would have been at the Helm, Ensign, but now you’re working in engineering. Dismissed!"

Tom swallowed a furious reply, knowing any answer would be an excuse for the Commander to come up with a worse punishment, like manually overhauling the waste disposers. 

"Bastard," he muttered under his breath, as he stormed to the turbo lift. Kim scuttled in after him, avoiding looking at the rest of the bridge crew, who were no doubt grinning.

As the doors closed, he elbowed Paris viciously in the stomach.

"Ow! what the hell was that for?" Tom yelled, holding his stomach gingerly.

"For just being you, you asshole. Every time you piss him off, I get the blame too. I’m beginning to think that being your friend isn’t worth the price of admission."

For a second, a look of genuine pain flashed in the blue eyes and then was gone so quickly Harry might have imagined it. Paris grinned his cocky, fly-boy grin.

"Oh, come on Har…we’re mates, scourge of the Delta Quadrant, heart breakers extraordinaire…you don’t want to be squeaky clean Harry Kim for ever. Chakotay has the Starfleet rulebook jammed so far up his ass that he walks with a permanent grimace. Who cares what he thinks?"

"I do, I might have to spend the rest of my life on this ship and I want to be respected, maybe get promoted some time," Harry replied quietly. "When we first came aboard everyone warned me that I’d get tarred with the same brush as you, but I didn’t care because being your friend was important to me."

"We’ll it’s important to me too, Harry," Tom assured him.

"Is it? I only see you when B’Elanna is busy and you are bored. Then you entertain yourself with 'let’s take the piss out of Harry.'"

"But that’s just fun, Harry, I don’t mean it," Tom protested.

"Maybe fun for you but not me. I’m sick of it, I’m sick of being punished when you are out of line and frankly, I’m sick of you!"

For a second Tom Paris went white, as though he had been gut-punched. For that endless second, guilt over whelmed Harry. Every fiber of him wanted to say " I didn’t mean it, I was joking" as his warm heart filled with pity for the suddenly vulnerable face in front of him. He started to apologize but before his mouth opened, a shutter seemed to crash down over Tom’s features and an evil smile lit up his face.

"Well," Tom drawled, "that makes it easy to tell you the truth then"

"The truth?" Harry squeaked.

"The truth that you’re a pain in the ass, Harry. That you make me sick, you always have, with your sniveling and whining and home-sickness. You’re just a mommy’s boy and always will be. If I wanted a pet I would have gotten a dog, but instead I got stuck with you. I only let you hang around ‘cos the comparison shows me at my best. Why do you think I always pull and you don’t? Because with you next to me, I look even better. I should have cut you loose years ago!"

Hurt struck Harry like a physical blow. He had been mad at Tom, sure, but he had never dreamt that their friendship had been a lie all along. No, it couldn’t be true. He didn’t believe it.

"Tom, we’ve been friends for years, don’t do this," he begged sadly.

"Harry. You were NEVER my friend. I’ve got better taste," Tom sneered.

Harry looked at Tom. The classic features were set in a rictus of scorn. The blue eyes were cold as ice, and the indifference that poured at him from them was impossible to disbelieve. In that second, Harry was flooded with an emotion so alien to him that he struggled to identify it. Hate. That was it, he hated Tom Paris with a passion that nearly floored him.

Then suddenly, the turbolift opened. Harry looked at Paris for a long moment and then with bare control he spat out "I’ll take Tubes 10-15, the others are yours. I don’t want to see you, speak to you ever again, Ensign."

He spun on his heel and stalked out of the lift, his back stiff with hatred and outrage. Tom looked at his disappearing back with complete indifference until the door closed again. As the door sealed with a whisper and Tom was left alone, his muscles began to shake and he collapsed to the floor with a crash. Tears began to stream down his face and he hugged his knees to his chest, as sobs began to wrack his slim body. 

"Harry.." he whispered. "Oh, Harry," and then a wail rose in his throat and in the privacy of the empty turbolift he began to howl like an animal in a trap.

 ~~~

"You’re no son of mine!" Owen Paris started to close the door in his face. Tom threw down the bag he was carrying to block the door open and started to cry. The admiral took a step backwards in distaste at his son’s tears, thus inadvertently allowing Tom entrance.

"It was an accident, dad, I didn’t mean it. I need you to forgive me, please!"

"You lied."

"I was confused, scared."

"You’re a coward, a disgrace to the Paris name."

"Dad, please… I’m sorry."

Tom swiped a hand over his face, mingling tears with the mucus streaming from his nose. 

For a second Owen was reminded of a five-year old Tom, being punished for cutting off his sister’s hair while she slept in a fit of jealousy. He sighed internally as he wondered whether he could have taken any action against Tom then that would have taught him to respect other people. Or had he always been fatally flawed, always destined to act without thought or consideration for other people.

"You're a sorry excuse of a human being. I wish you had never been born."

"No, Dad don’t say that, you can’t mean that. It was an accident. I know I lied but I didn’t have to tell the truth. Nobody suspected. I chose to come clean. I thought they’d respect me for confessing when I didn’t have to."

"Respect you? Respect you for bringing this disgrace to Starfleet? Of course they knew the accident was your fault. Do you think in this day and age we can’t tell why a shuttle crashes? You were cocky, over-confident and arrogant and your so-called friends paid the price. All you had to do was keep your fucking mouth shut!"

"But I felt so guilty, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t look any one in the face," Tom said.

"So you thought you’d ruin my life too?" his father demanded angrily.

"Ruin your life?" Tom repeated in confusion.

"Do you have any idea of how hard I’ve worked to get where I am? How hard your grandfather worked to give me this chance? How many generations of Parises have worked to get our family into the top echelons of Starfleet? My political enemies are having a field day. You have brought disgrace on us all. Your mother hasn’t left her room for a week. Your sisters won’t mention your name. You can take your things and leave. There is no place for you here. We’ve lost everything because of you and what do you care? You’ve lost nothing because you never cared about anything or anyone."

"I lost my best friends," Tom protested, tears burning in his eyes.

"You KILLED your best friends. And what does that make you? God help anyone who makes the mistake of caring about you, Tom. You’ve broken your mother’s heart, you’ve ruined the lives of everyone you’ve ever touched. I wish you’d died at Caldik Prime, at least I wouldn’t have to feel responsible for all the people you are going to harm in the future."

"I’m never going to harm anyone, Dad, please believe me, I can’t live with what I’ve done. I’ll never hurt anyone again. I promise."

Admiral Owen Paris regarded his weeping son with the dispassionate distaste he normally reserved for bacteria on the slides in his laboratory.

"You’re like a disease, Tom, you can’t help the destruction you cause. I almost pity you but if it were within my power I would put you down, like a rabid dog. There’s a flaw in you. Maybe I put it there, maybe I am to blame for what you have become or perhaps you were born that way and no one could have helped you. If your family ever meant anything to you, if you have any conscience at all, go away Tom and disappear, permanently, and if you don’t have enough courage to do the right thing, and frankly I doubt you do, at least don’t make the mistake of letting anyone else care for you. You’ve destroyed enough people."

With that he turned and walked away into the house.

"Dad!" Tom screamed and began to run after him. From nowhere, two security guards appeared in the hallway and lifting him by the elbows picked Tom up and threw him backwards out of the open front door. His bag was picked up and thrown after him and the door slammed shut.

Tom picked himself up off the driveway, wiping furiously at his tears with dusty hands and his eyes watered more furiously with the added irritation. Almost blinded, he staggered to the door and rang the bell, over and over and over but the impenetrable door remained firmly closed against him. He sank to his knees, his right arm still stretched out to ring the chime, like a penitent beggar and he sobbed as his world fell apart, as above him the chime rang unanswered, on and on and on, until he gradually realized that the chime was the steady bleep of his com-badge .

Tom struggled out of his knotted bedclothes, absently registering that he was huddled at the door to his bathroom. His knees and elbows bruised and aching from an apparent fall out of his bed. Still confused he managed to tap his com-badge:

"Paris, here," he croaked, with a voice harsh from crying.

"It is 0807, Ensign, has your bridge duty become so boring that you can’t even bother to turn up today?" Chakotay’s sarcastic voice drawled.

"Shit, oh shit," Tom gasped as he woke up to the realization that he was late for duty. "I’m sorry, Commander, I overslept, I’ll be there in 5 minutes."

"Don’t bother, Paris. Ensign Wildman has the helm. Mr. Kim tells me that you have an interest in maintenance. You are now expected in waste recycling at 0830. Don’t be late," and Chakotay signed off.

"Bastard, bastard, you fucking bastard," Tom spat as he dressed, uncertain whether he meant Chakotay or Harry, or maybe both.

 ~~~

Eight hours later, Tom decided that he had finally gone to Hell. 

Mysteriously the maintenance computer had gone off line over night. Crewman Kenneth Dalby had informed him with great relish, that Chakotay had determined that for the length of Tom’s shift in Maintenance, rank did not apply and that Tom was to follow Dalby’s instructions to the letter. This consisted of Dalby with his feet up reading a serious of Padds that Tom was sure were lurid novels, from Dalby’s occasional chortles, while Tom was assigned to manually strip all of the blocked conduits.

He didn’t argue , sure that Chakotay had set him up. Besides, he didn’t want to get on the wrong side of Dalby. He might outrank him now but they had a history and Tom knew to his cost that Dalby had no respect for him and never would.

Filthy and tired, almost gagging from the stench now reeking from his soiled uniform, Tom had finally finished his shift. He reported to Dalby that he was leaving, unable to resist taunting him that the largest conduit had still to be flushed.

"I guess you’ll just have to do that one yourself," he grinned with malice.

Dalby put down his padd, smirked knowingly and flipped switches on the engineering console. Immediately Tom heard the maintenance computer come on line and the sound of automated flushing roared nearly as loudly as the blood in his brain.

"You fucking bastard," he screamed and launched himself at the grinning crewman.

Calmly Dalby grabbed Tom’s fist as it swung at him and in a lightening move he twisted Tom’s arm behind his back and forced him violently onto the console. Tom’s face smashed into the controls and he was momentarily stunned. Pain flashed in his nose and he felt warm blood running down into his mouth. He tried to struggle up but Dalby forced his arm higher up his back, until the agony forced Tom to collapse back onto the console, his lip splitting this time on the switches.

"You stink like the shit you are, Paris," Dalby hissed.

"I’ll report you, Dalby, you’ll be in the brig so long you won’t remember what stars look like," Tom managed to say, as his mouth was mashed further into the console.

"I don’t think so, Paris. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for an opportunity to remind you that you are just scum. Janeway doesn’t think you’re her blue eyed boy anymore, Paris, not since the Moneans and anyway she’s got Seven to occupy her now. She knows you for the liar you are. I’ll just say you were mad about having to get your pretty hands dirty and do some real work for a change. She knows what a lazy bastard you are."

"So, okay…you’re right, I won’t report you…let me go, now," Tom said, completely disarmed by the probable truth of Dalby's words.

"Oh no, I’ve only just started. You’ve pissed me off and made a mess on my computer. You’ve got to pay the price," Dalby replied with a chuckle.

Holding Tom’s left arm twisted up, remembering its vulnerability, Dalby used his right hand to start undoing Tom’s uniform. Realization hit Tom with a terrified rush of horror. He bucked wildly as he flashed back to the last time Dalby had had him in this position, back in the days when Voyager had first joined with the Tom Paris hating Maquis. His wild thrashing in Dalby’s strong grip forced his weak left shoulder to dislocate. Agony flooded him as Dalby dropped the arm in realization of Tom’s helplessness and it dangled uselessly, Dalby taking the opportunity of having both hands free to quickly rip Tom’s clothes off.

Dalby forced his legs apart roughly with his own, while freeing his own dick which sprang out hungrily, already hard and ready to go.

"No, no, no, no no…." Tom sobbed, lost in agony and remembrance.

"Shut the fuck up, Paris. You’re just a whore, a hole to jerk off in. That’s all you’ve ever been," Dalby reminded him savagely.

With that he aimed at Tom’s tightly clenched ass and dove in, taking him in one hard, dry thrust.

Tom felt his ass tearing as Dalby entered him. The agony was so great that for a moment he couldn’t even feel his shoulder. Then Dalby started thrusting wildly. With each stroke he came almost out and then plunged back in. Tom could feel the edge of the computer console cutting into his own groin, as with each thrust he was pounded into the console. The blood from the tearing lubricated Dalby’s cock so that it slid in and out more freely. His ass was on fire, his shoulder blazed with pain and his own cock was being mercilessly mashed between his thighs and the desk.

"Hey, Paris…it’s like fucking a virgin. So tight. So good. How did a whore like you get his cherry back?" Dalby laughed.

Each of Dalby’s thrusts banged against Tom’s prostate and despite the pain and humiliation he felt his cock responding.

"No, no, no, no " he chanted, as much against his own involuntary arousal as against Dalby’s actions.

His body twisted against his will as he found himself raising his hips to meet Dalby’s attack. He started to whimper with each thrust, and Dalby grabbed him around the hips and started to grind him against himself. Each movement meant Tom’s prostate was stroked from another angle and his body continued to betray him as he responded.

"No…I hate him, I hate this….HE hates me…I don’t want this…this is rape…I can’t be wanting this," Tom screamed at himself in denial, while his body gave the lie to his thoughts and he felt his testicles tightening and then an orgasm ripped through him. He spurted cum onto the console.

Dalby was laughing insanely, "yes, little whore, that’s what you are, you want this don’t you…you need me to ream you … cunt, whore…where’s your pride now?"

Tom was sobbing soundlessly, a hundred previous rapes running through his head, the Maquis, prison ,even at the beginning on Voyager. Yes, Dalby was right. He WAS a whore. Otherwise how could it feel so good to be hurt so badly? Why did all his self-loathing solidify in this moment, when he felt so good to be so badly punished?

Dalby continued humping wildly, each thrust raising Tom’s body up in the air and then slamming him back down. "You wanted this didn’t you, Paris…admit it, you want this…you want me to do this…admit it"

Tom was almost delirious with pain, this good, good pain.

"Yes" he whispered, as he felt his last vestiges of pride disappear.

"Yes what, whore?" Dalby snarled suddenly grabbing Tom’s balls and wrenching them like he would tear them off.

Tom screamed and sobbed "Yes, I want this…I want this…I need this."

"What do you want, Paris…tell me."

"I want you to fuck me…I want you to hurt me," Tom confessed, lost in that old familiar place where all his guilt found temporary absolution.

"Ask nicely, whore…beg me," and he gave Tom’s testicles another vicious twist.

At that moment, behind them and unheard, the door to maintenance opened and B’Elanna walked in. She had gone to the mess-hall after shift and unable to see Tom, she went and sat next to Harry, who was gazing morosely at the purple glop that was Neelix’s special of the day.

"Hi, Starfleet," B’Elanna said cheerfully, draping a friendly arm over his shoulder. "Where’s Tom?"

"Do I look like his keeper?" Harry snarled.

B’Elanna’s arm dropped and her look of surprise was almost comical. Sweet Harry Kim never spoke to ANYONE like that. Ignoring her instinctive urge to tear his head off his shoulders, B’Elanna swallowed, counted to 10 and said sweetly, "have you two fallen out?"

"Fallen out? Huh…you have to be in to be out!"

"I don’t understand, Harry," B'Elanna said.

"We can’t not be friends anymore, because apparently we never were friends in the first place. He’s been using me all along…and if I were you I’d look out because he’s probably using you too!"

B’Elanna shook her head, completely lost.

"Harry, just answer this…Where is Tom," she asked firmly.

"In waste management…a shit in the shit," Harry spat back.

Deciding that the best way to get to the bottom of this was to talk to Tom, she gave Harry a consoling pat on the shoulder and went to maintenance. As the door opened she could see Dalby’s back. He was bent over a sprawled naked body, grunting furiously as he fucked the prone figure. She saw long white legs with blood pouring down them in rivulets and saw Dalby grab a shock of red-gold hair so that the face below wailed before being banged down on the desk.

Angry disbelief blazed through her. 

"It’s Tom. Dalby is raping Tom," she told herself, and sprang forwards, only to stop in horrified confusion as she heard Tom’s voice.

"Please fuck me, Dalby…I’m begging you …fuck me hard … hurt me….please fuck me, don’t stop, I’m your whore…fuck me now,"

If she had not been so angry, so hurt and betrayed, she might have heard the broken defeat in Tom’s voice, the pain and confusion that drove him to say the words he had been forced to say so many times in his life just to survive. She might have heard the self-loathing, which he normally hid so well under his fly-boy persona.

But all B’Elanna could hear was the coursing of her own half-Klingon blood that demanded that she tear out the heart of this man she had trusted, that she had loved, that she thought was her friend. Suddenly Harry’s words came back to her and she understood that just as Harry’s friend had never existed, neither had her lover. Any icy calm came over her and she stepped forwards.

"Well, well what a pretty sight this is," she purred dangerously.

At the sound of B’Elanna’s voice, Dalby jumped up and out of Tom, his dick suddenly going limp in terror and he felt his balls trying to hide inside his body. "I’m going to die," a voice screamed in his head but he couldn’t form any words. He just looked at the maddened half-Klingon with a mouth that opened and closed like beached fish.

"Get out of here," B’Elanna spat and Dalby gathered his clothes and ran out half-naked, before she changed her mind.

In a daze, Tom lay across the console. He had gasped in mixed relief and disappointment when Dalby’s dick had slid out of his ass, leaving a ripped puckered hole. His thighs were smeared with blood and shit and Dalby’s semen. B’Elanna looked at the damage with horror and disgust. She could not believe that anyone would voluntarily allow such abuse, let alone welcome it. 

She knew that she was sometimes violent during sex herself, she had marked Tom with her teeth and hands on numerous occasions and he had never complained despite her guilty apologies but this was different, this was sick. Unless it was the violence Tom wanted, needed even.  Maybe that was why he had pretended to love her, because he got a sick thrill when she lost control.

*B’Elanna. Oh my god, B’Elanna is here* Tom told himself in a panic. *What happened…how did I let this happen…how did I beg Dalby to keep raping me…oh my God, did she hear me call myself his whore?*

With effort, feeling like a knife was sticking in his left shoulder and groaning at the agony in his ass, Tom rolled over to expose his battered face and bruised groin.

"B’Elanna," he croaked. "It’s not what you think…I didn’t want to do it"

Snarling her disgust, B’Elanna stepped forwards.

"And I suppose you didn’t enjoy it?"

"No. Of course not. . Look what he did to me," Tom beseeched.

"Then what’s this?" and B’Elanna’s finger traced a pattern through the cum on his chest, the evidence of his own orgasms.

Tom closed his eyes in despair and then, Tom Paris patent self-protection don’t show you care routine #25 kicked in,

"So, okay," he drawled, " you caught me! I never said the relationship was exclusive," and he gave a broad smirk, only small tics at the corner of his eyes betraying his true anguish.

But all B’Elanna saw was the smirk. She hit him so hard and fast that he was lifted off the console and he smashed into the wall, his dislocated shoulder taking the impact. He screamed and crumpled, sobbing in pain. B’Elanna took a step forward before realizing that if she hit him again, she wouldn’t stop until she killed him and although that wasn’t a bad thing, he wasn’t worth her spending the rest of her life in the brig.

"You’re scum, Tom, you’re a no-good bastard and I’ll kill you if you ever come near me again. You fucking pig," she screamed and then turned on her heel and ran from the room.

Left alone, Tom huddled into a ball of agony.

"Please let me die," he whispered. "I just want to die"

He curled into a fetal position in the spreading pool of blood from his nose, mouth and ass, and cried. 

~~~

Tom sat in sickbay, clutching a blanket around himself and trying to stay calm as the Doctor stalked around him in the supercilious way that only he seemed able to carry with such panache.

"It is my duty to report sexual abuse of this nature to the Captain," he repeated, in that smug manner which always made Tom want to decompile him.

"I already TOLD you, I was NOT abused. This was consensual," Tom hissed.

"I find that hard to believe," The Doctor sniffed. "Even YOU should have more sense than this." 

He waived the tricorder in Tom’s face.

"Multiple lacerations, severe internal bleeding, a dislocated shoulder, a broken nose, a split lip, two cracked teeth, severe bruising to your groin area, a twisted testicle…. Need I go on? I have studied the varied mating habits of a number of species,. I have even tended to some of the less socially acceptable results of your relationship with Miss Torres, but I have never experienced any species who believe that this level of physical damage is a necessary part of a sexual ritual. Indeed if B’Elanna hadn’t reported a medical emergency and had you beamed here you may well have bled to death."

"Yeah, good old B’Elanna," Tom muttered to himself. "Must have been worried she’d get the blame for killing me."

"Although why she has involved herself when you are evidently betraying her with another crew member is beyond my programming!" huffed the Doctor in disgust.

"Yeah, well B’Elanna and I are finished. I guess I’m just not into commitment, after all," Tom smirked.

"Committal would seem more appropriate under the circumstances," the Doctor murmured as he walked into his office. 

Tom contemplated taking the opportunity to escape since the worst of his injuries had been dealt with, but the thought of walking down the corridor in a blanket was not particularly appealing. He wondered whether he could get a new uniform from the sickbay dispenser. Before he could act on the thought, the Doctor emerged from his office.

"It seems that the Captain has taken this week for a well deserved vacation. She’s on holodec 2 and unavailable except for emergencies. I don’t think that this situation qualifies as an emergency."

Tom’s anger at the fact that the Doctor had gone against his wishes was tempered by the fact that he was not going to get her out of the Holodec over this. Good old Kathryn. She sure knew when to take a holiday. His body started to shake a little with relief but then the Doctor dropped his bombshell.

"Therefore, Commander Chakotay is on his way and will deal with the situation."

The bottom dropped out of Tom’s world. Chakotay. *Oh my God…he’ll see right through me.*

"You bastard! I told you that I didn’t want anyone else told. And Chakotay HATES me."

"I do not appreciate profanity in the sickbay, Mr. Paris. I told you that it was my duty to report this form of physical damage and as to your last point, I do not believe the Commander hates you. At least no more than the rest of us do!" The last sentence was so quiet that Tom barely heard it, but he did hear it and it nearly shattered his fragile self-control.

When the familiar tingling of the transporter beam had permeated his consciousness in Maintenance, his first thought had been *oh God no, just let me die in peace,* but then his mask had slipped back into place. He had managed to materialize in sickbay with a cocky smirk on his face.

After stabilizing him and dealing with the worst of his injuries, the Doctor had looked at him closely and with sub-routine 'SYMPATHY 1' had said softly,

"Are you alright, Mr. Paris. You seem to have been crying!"

"Of course I’ve been crying, I dislocated my shoulder! Who wouldn’t cry!" Tom had spat back, in panic.

"I mean are you emotionally alright. It is a terrible thing to cope with being a victim of rape," the Doctor had replied/

That had been the moment when all of Tom’s defenses had slammed into place. He wasn’t a victim. He couldn’t live with being a victim. The pseudo pity in the Doctor’s eyes almost unmade him then and there. He knew he would shatter into a million pieces if anyone saw into his soul.

"Rape?" he had drawled sarcastically, "God, Doctor, you need to get out more. This wasn’t rape. It was sex. I admit that it got a bit out of hand but when have you ever known Tom Paris to do anything by halves?"

The Doctor had blinked, sub-routine CONFUSION 4, "You are surely not serious, Paris" he had replied, casting furiously around his programming for an explanation. Perhaps this was a coping mechanism, he finally decided.

"Don’t be embarrassed, Mr. Paris. It is quite normal for victims to deny what has happened."

"I told you. I’m not a fucking victim. I am not embarrassed except by the fact that I’m sitting naked in your sickbay. I require nothing but a uniform and to go back to my quarters."

That was when the Doctor had decided he could not cope with the situation anymore and had called Chakotay.

Now the two of them sat in hostile silence. Tom contemplated just getting up and leaving but was pretty sure the Doc would simply call security to bring him back.

*Besides, where are you going to go, Paris?* he asked himself softly *where are you going to hide on a ship this size?* An unwelcome image of himself hiding in his clothes closet jumped into his mind and he laughed hysterically.

The Doctor looked up to see Paris talking to himself and then laughing at nothing and if a holoprogram could shiver then he would have. *I’m not programmed for this,* he told himself self-pityingly and looked at Paris with growing irritation.

At that moment the Sickbay doors whispered open and Chakotay emerged, slightly out of breath as though he had been running. Tom did not bother to look up at him.

"I’m glad you are here," the Doctor said pompously. "Mr. Paris is being of no help whatsoever. It is quite obvious to me that he has been assaulted but he continues to deny it against all the evidence…"

"I’ll take it from here, Doctor," Chakotay interrupted softly. "You can go now"

"But Mr. Paris is still requiring treatment."

Chakotay smiled gently, dimples in abundance "I’ll take it from here," he repeated quietly but firmly.

The Doctor huffed himself up in annoyance "Whilst Mr. Paris is in sickbay I really must insist."

"Computer, delete EMH" Chakotay suddenly snapped, and with a look of shocked horror the Doctor dematerialized.

The commander turned to Tom and the gentle mask slipped off his face to be replaced by an expression of animal fury.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Paris? You know better than to turn up in sickbay with injuries like these."

Paris rocked with confusion. "I…. I… B’Elanna caught Dalby with me. She called the Doctor. It wasn’t my fault."

" ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ " Chakotay mocked. "Nothing’s ever your fault is it Paris? Now I’m going to have to erase the Doctor’s memory files or Dalby will be put in the brig for rape."

"But I told the Doctor it wasn’t rape. It’s not my fault he doesn’t believe me," Paris whined in confusion. It seemed that Chakotay KNEW he had been raped but was only angry that the Doctor had found out. He knew Chakotay was angry but it seemed that the anger was directed all at Paris not, Dalby and that confused the hell out of him.

"What the hell," he thought. "If he knows, I may as well get the sympathy. Maybe I can get out of bridge shift for a week."

"He hurt me really badly, Chakotay," Tom whined. "He nearly killed me."

"I don’t care if he reamed you a new asshole, Paris. He’s one of MY men. You knew when I sent you there this morning that it was for punishment, didn’t you?"

Tom nearly fell off the bed in shock. He didn’t recognize the man in front of him. Where had the respected first officer gone? Horrified light dawned on Tom’s face. "You mean, you mean you told him to, to, to do that to me?" he whispered in disbelief.

"Why not, Paris? It’s always been an effective way to keep you in line and cheer up the troops. Two for the price of one, so to speak."

Bewildered blue eyes looked up into dark eyes glistening with amused hatred.

"You mean, before…the Maquis…that was you?"

Chakotay sat on the next biobed and his shoulders began to shake with barely contained laughter.

"Oh, Paris. The look on your face. Of course it was me. The Maquis during your abortive attempt to join us, the Maquis in prison, the Maquis on board Voyager. All of them were under instruction from me. And you know something, Paris? Every single one of them told me that you enjoyed it!"

Tom wanted to jump up and smash that laughing face, but he couldn’t move, his body felt disconnected. *Shock* he thought, *I’m literally in shock.*

"Oh don’t look so horrified, Paris. You’re just a natural whore and you obviously get off on being punished. Why shouldn’t I take advantage of your needs? Look at it from my point of view, life was hard in the Maquis, sometimes I had to throw a little sweetener out to keep morale up. In the prison the Maquis needed every bit of comfort they could get, and when we first joined voyager no-one was happy about becoming Starfleet. You were just a tool to keep the peace. And you never told anyone. That’s why you were ideal. You were so determined not to let people discover you were a victim that we could just keep doing it to you."

"But why now? After so long? Why did you let me think it was over?" Tom whispered.

Chakotay laughed.

"Several reasons. Firstly, because you were getting too damned cocky and I wanted to wipe the smirk off your face. Secondly because B’Elanna was falling in love with you and I wanted to cure the silly cow before it got too serious and finally, and most importantly, I’ve decided to give up on Kathryn. It’s never going to happen and I need a hole to jerk off in, and since I have certain….. preferences ….that hole is going to be you!"

"A hole to jerk off in," Tom repeated to himself. "That’s what Dalby called me too. The bastard is telling the truth. He’s been behind it all!" The pain inside him threatened to rise up and choke him, but anger won and he spat at Chakotay.

"Fuck you, Chakotay. Do you think I would let you anywhere near me now you’ve told me this? Drop dead, you bastard!"

"I don’t think you have any choice, Paris. There’s no-one for you to turn to. I have spent months letting Harry Kim know that he hasn’t a chance of promotion whilst he is your friend. And from what I hear you fell straight into a trap of your own pride and blew him out before he had a chance to end it. B’Elanna now sees you as the scum you are and is likely to kill you if you go near her. Janeway hasn’t forgiven you for your betrayal with the Moneans. You don’t have any friends here. No-one will believe your word against mine."

"It doesn’t matter. I’m still a member of this crew. There are Starfleet rules to protect me from you."

"Well I suppose you’re right, but if you told anyone about our conversation it would quickly get around the crew that you are the star whore of the delta quadrant. It’s your choice Paris. You can have a private relationship with me and keep your illusion of pride or the whole ship will find out that you are an ever-open asshole and that you get off on being raped. Open season on Tom Paris will start tomorrow!" Chakotay smirked.

"You bastard," Tom choked, tears pouring down his face as the helplessness of his situation overwhelmed him.

"It’s up to you Paris. 2200,my quarters if you come to your senses. If not…well all I can say is that there will be an interesting anonymous article on the ship-wide net tomorrow. See you later, Paris."

And Chakotay walked out of sickbay without a backward glance.

~~~ 

Tom walked slowly into the mess hall and helped himself to a plate of cold leftovers. He wasn’t hungry, in fact he felt sick at the thought of food, but he couldn’t spend the next two hours alone in his quarters or he would go mad. At least here he could think things through without succumbing to the mindless urge to howl like a trapped animal. 

It was 2000 and most of Alpha shift had eaten and gone on to Sandrine's or Fairhaven. A few people were still huddled at tables discussing the gossip of the day and he breathed a sigh of relief that, since his arrival hadn’t caused any furtive glances, the gossip obviously didn’t include him.

Yet.

He sat gingerly on his raw ass, increasingly aware that the damage that the Doctor had partially repaired was more than skin deep and regretting the tightness of his jeans.

Obviously B’Elanna hadn’t spread the word about what had happened earlier that evening. For a second he felt gratitude towards her, before realizing that it had more likely been her own reputation she had been protecting with her silence. After all, she wouldn’t want it known that her boyfriend had thrown her over, especially for a bastard like Dalby.

Pain clenched his stomach as for a fleeting moment he wished that what B’Elanna had thought was the truth. Although he wanted to put his life on the line, literally, and find her and try to beg her forgiveness, he knew that the only thing worse than her hatred would be her pity. He could imagine the disgust that would fill her eyes if she knew the truth. 

The fact that it wasn’t the first time Dalby had raped him, the fact that he had spent every day and night in prison being someone’s whore. More importantly, the fact that in less than 2 hours he would go to the quarters of the man who had masterminded his debasement and would become his whore too.

There was no point in denying it to himself. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He had three choices; he could tell everybody and become an object of scorn and ridicule. There was no safety in that choice. His experience in prison had taught him that to appear a victim simply drew abusers to you like a magnet. Oh, it wouldn’t happen at once but one day he would walk down a deserted corridor and someone would be waiting for him. 

He would have to spend the rest of the journey looking over his shoulder, waiting for the inevitable. Never knowing who or when. And in the meantime how could he face the Starfleeters, whose sheltered upbringing in the Federation had not prepared them to accept the choices he had made. Who would sicken him with their pseudo sympathy whilst always saying behind his back that he must have liked it really or he wouldn’t have let it happen. And a large part of him wondered whether that was true.

Or he could kill himself. The thought held no fear. In fact, he examined the idea with clinical detachment. There was no point slitting his wrists or taking pills, the medical computer would pick up his fading life signs and alert the doctor. Then he would be on suicide watch for the rest of his life. A phaser on kill would do it but since he was off duty he would have to steal one from Security or knock out a security officer and steal one. 

*Oh, yeah, Paris get a grip…you couldn’t even fight Dalby off, how the hell would you subdue a trained Security Officer?*

Maybe he could transport himself to a point out of the ship. He could imagine his body blowing apart like an overripe fruit. Messy and painful but quick. But if he turned up at a transporter room that would show on Tuvok’s station and Chakotay would be able to stop him before he could, before he could what? Overcome the transporter operator and override the security lock and transport himself remotely before he was caught, oh yeah, really likely wasn’t it. 

Maybe if he could get onto the shuttle deck without detection he could steal the Delta Flyer, shoot the bay doors off and escape before the tractor beam caught him…. Maybe he could get into sickbay claiming aftereffects of the rape and get hold of a lethal dose of painkiller. Except the Doctor had been reprogrammed so he wouldn’t know about Paris’s injuries and he would only get out the painkillers if he saw the injuries and if he saw the injuries he would call Chakotay.

Which brought him to the third and only choice. Chakotay. What was it they said, "Better the devil you know," except Tom had a feeling that he didn’t know Chakotay at all. In fact, it had been made painfully obvious to him today that maybe no one on Voyager really knew him, except maybe the Maquis and they weren’t telling. How could he appear so calm, so gentle, the voice of reason whenever Captain Janeway let her emotions run away with her. How could a man who seemed the perfect text-book example of everyone’s firm but favorite Commander really be the vicious, vengeful beast that had revealed it’s fangs today?

On the other hand, did it seem likely that a man like the perfect Commander Chakotay could have ever been the ruthless leader of a Maquis resistance cell? Everything Tom knew and had heard about the war against the Cardassians had made him realize that no one could survive unless they were as cruel and ruthless as their enemies were. To have become a cell leader, Chakotay must have excelled at the torture and killing that were the everyday tools of both sides of the dispute. He had glimpsed today the real Chakotay behind the mask, the wolf who lurked close to the surface of the powerful, dark Indian and despite the terror that made his balls shrink and his hands tremble he also felt the powerful call of that wild spirit.

"He’s the punishment I’ve been looking for," he whispered to himself. " My atonement for Caldik Prime," and he shivered to hear these terrible self-destructive thoughts, even as he felt in them a truth that no one could ever understand. "He’s the dark vengeful shadow that chases me in my nightmares. And he will kill me, one day at a time, until I am a used up husk and I simply blow away like so much space dust. And that is the price I have to pay. The rest has been a rehearsal for this. This is my sentence and I can’t escape it any more."

"Tom, I didn’t see you come in and then I saw you but you seemed so lost in thought that I have left you alone, but I really must start clearing up now!" came the cheerfully apologetic voice of Neelix, breaking into his thoughts.

"Oh, you haven’t eaten your dinner. Can I get you something else?" Neelix said, torn between concern for Tom who looked unusually pale and irritation that he might be taken up on his offer.

Tom shook his head like a weary animal and looked up at the brightly dressed Talaxian.

"What time is it?" Tom croaked.

"It’s nearly 2200 and I need my beauty sleep you know," Neelix laughed. He didn’t really know what the saying meant but somehow he had found that people always looked at him and laughed and left without complaint when he said it.

Tom shot up in a panic. *I’m going to be late, oh God don’t let me be late!* and he ran out of the mess hall like the white rabbit.

Neelix watched his disappearing back with a furrowed brow and then chuckled to himself. "Must have a hot date…. Lucky Tom!"

~~~

He looked up with irritation from the Padd he was reading as his door chime sounded. It was 2210 and his temper, which had been at fraying point for several days, was suddenly stretched beyond endurance.

"Tom," he thought. "The bastard. I’ll kill him."

The door chimed again.

"Go away," he yelled, "It’s too late…you had your chance and blew it. Go away."

He threw the padd at the closed door and it clattered to the floor with a satisfying smash.

The chime went again.

"Fucking bastard. If I open that door you’ll wish you hadn’t come here. It’s too late for this."

The chime continued.

He snapped suddenly, jumping to his feet and storming to the door

"You’re dead, Paris, fucking dead," he snarled as he opened the door,

And stepped back in surprise.

"B’Elanna…what are you doing here…I thought you were Tom!"

"He’s not here then?" B’Elanna asked plaintively, and he was struck suddenly by how vulnerable and upset she looked.

"No, he’s not…come in B’Elanna, you look awful…I mean upset… I mean you couldn’t ever look AWFUL… I mean…"

"Shut up, Harry and hold me" B’Elanna said gently, and stepped into his room and into his arms.

~~~

 Tom stood shivering in Chakotay’s living room. He had arrived out of breath with only seconds to spare and as Chakotay had opened his door, still in his Command uniform, he had been chilled by the feral, triumphant smile that slowly spread over the Commander’s face. As the door slid shut behind him with a whisper, trapping him with this unpredictable and very dangerous man, he was struck anew by how intimidating Chakotay was physically.

Although Tom was several inches taller than the older man was, he felt fragile and defenseless against the dense heavy presence of Chakotay. The man exuded strength, confidence and danger. Chakotay stepped back to survey the younger man and his tongue snaked over his lower lip. Although his eyes still glittered with unconcealed hate there was a deep lust lurking in there too. Such an unmistakable combination, the look he had seen so many times before. But it had never had this paralyzing power over him in the past. Tom ducked his head and stared at the floor as a humiliated blush colored his face. If he looked into those eyes for a second longer he would scream.

Chakotay backed slowly away from him as though calming a wild animal and settled into the couch. He relaxed comfortably, stretching his powerful limbs absently and stared at Tom in apparent contemplation for a long time before speaking. When it came, Chakotay’s voice was unexpectedly quiet but unmistakably a command.

"Take off your clothes, Paris."

Startled by the sudden words, Tom looked up to see Chakotay’s heavy lidded eyes regarding him. He was reminded again of a Wolf.

"And I’m the lamb for the slaughter," he told himself, almost laughing in his terror. His frozen limbs refused to move.

Annoyance flashed over the Commander’s features

"NOW! Paris, I won’t ASK again, and I do not expect to ever have to repeat myself again to you. Do you understand?" Chakotay snarled.

"Yes," Tom mumbled.

"Yes, what? "

"Yes, sir!" Tom replied, beginning to undo his shirt, his fingers fumbling with the buttons in his panic.

"SLOWLY," Chakotay barked. "I want you do it nice and slow for me. Think about pleasing me with every movement you make. Give me a show and if you please me enough then, maybe, just maybe, I’ll take it easier on you tonight. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Tom whispered, as tears of humiliation started to run down his cheeks.

Tom couldn’t remember ever feeling this bad before. Sure he had been raped and battered countless times but he had always fought, even if sometimes it was only a token resistance because he was too sore for another beating. He had always screamed at his attackers. Always sworn and called them names and let them know that they could do what they liked to his body but his soul was his own. He had never, ever given in before. He had never acted the whore, even if they used him like one.

This was different. He was doing this himself. Chakotay was on the other side of the room. He had come to this room voluntarily. Under duress perhaps, but not dragged kicking and screaming. He had walked in and put himself in this position and now he was taking his clothes off just because he had been told to. Something broke in Tom at that moment. Some last vestige of pride that he didn’t even know he still had, broke away and left him trembling and naked in front of the Commander. If sheer despair and self-hatred could have stopped a heart he would have dropped dead at that moment. But the universe was not that kind.

Tom stood there naked for an endless amount of time. It was cold in the room and gooseflesh had erupted on his arms and legs whilst his testicles had shriveled, although he guessed a large part of that was fear. On and on he stood there as Chakotay simply watched him with a small, unpleasant smile on his face. Finally, the tension, the cold and the fear were too much for Tom.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, hearing his voice break a little on the last word.

"I want you to shut the fuck up," Chakotay snarled and moving with unbelievable speed he sprang up from the couch, crossed the room and back-handed Tom across the face before Tom even registered that he was coming.

Tom flew back from the force of the blow and hit the closed door with his left shoulder. Although the dislocation had been fixed, the nerves were still raw and he sank to the floor in agony. He felt a burning heat in his jaw and realized that his lip had started to bleed again. He cautiously looked up and saw that Chakotay had calmly returned to the couch and was again sitting watching him as if nothing had happened.

"Get up," the deceptively soft voice said and Tom didn’t hesitate. He leapt to his feet and stood back where he had left his pile of clothes.

"Open your legs…. this far" and Chakotay indicated about 40 centimeters with his hands.

Tom complied, looking for further instruction but just receiving an inscrutable glare. He ducked his head and closed his eyes against the tears that were beginning to form again. His hands clenched and unclenched spasmodically but other than that he stayed motionless for a seemingly endless time. Gradually Tom became aware of a spreading burning pain on the inside of his thighs as his muscles tired of this unnatural position. The more he tried to stay still, the more his muscles ached and trembled so that although he didn’t move from position he was virtually shuddering to stay in place. He looked up at Chakotay, too frightened to speak but ready to plead with his eyes, only to find Chakotay absorbed in a padd. The bastard wasn’t even watching him any more.

Carefully, watching Chakotay for a reaction, he began to move his right leg a millimeter at a time to ease the pressure.

"Don’t move," Chakotay snapped, not even looking up.

Tom froze again. He didn’t know what was going on. He was tired and afraid and in pain and too scared to move. He started to sob quietly, hiccupping the cries so as not to make any noise. After about 10 more minutes, Chakotay put down the padd he was reading and looked up. He saw the trembling, shivering form of Tom Paris and grinned maliciously.

"Good," he purred.

Slowly he got up and walked to the replicator and fumbled with the controls for a minute. He was deliberately ordering non-verbally so that Tom couldn’t tell what he was doing. He took two items from the replicator, and hiding them behind his back he walked up to Tom and stepped behind him.

Tom held his breath, as all he could feel for a long moment was Chakotay’s malevolent presence behind him. Without warning one of Chakotay’s boots kicked his legs further apart. He staggered for a second but didn’t fall.

"Bend over," Chakotay ordered.

For an instant Tom froze, before the fear of what would happen if he didn’t obey overcame his fear of what would happen if he did.

He reached down, helped by a rough hand on the small of his back, until his hands reached the floor.

"Take your weight on your hands," Chakotay said and Tom obeyed, realizing how very vulnerable he was in this position, with his ass stuck up in the air.

Behind him Chakotay opened the tube of lubrication that he had replicated and began smearing it over the other item, a large dildo.

"Let me explain something, Tom," Chakotay said pleasantly, as he completed his task. "I don’t like blood in my bed, or shit in my bed or any other excrescence your putrid body might exude. So from now on when you arrive at my quarters you will have washed yourself inside and out. Do you understand what I mean by that?" and he slapped Tom’s ass hard enough to leave a white handprint in the suddenly reddened skin.

"Yes, Sir," Tom yelped.

"Furthermore, I do not want to waste my time preparing you…you are NOT my boyfriend…you are my whore…. You will come ready to accept me, understand?" he punctuated his remark with a blow to the other cheek.

"Yes, Sir," Tom sobbed.

"To help you in this, because I like to be a reasonable man, I have replicated you something to assist you. I made it out of YOUR rations, of course, since it is for your benefit," and without any further warning Chakotay shoved the dildo in Tom, in one swift powerful movement, until it was firmly embedded.

Tom screamed at the invasion. Whatever Chakotay had stuck up his ass was thicker and longer than anything he had felt before and on top of the earlier rape it was agonizing, despite the lubricant.

 "You will realize that you are soon to be the lucky recipient of this!" Chakotay said proudly, and walking to Tom’s front he unzipped his uniform and pulled out the biggest cock Tom had ever seen on a man. Huge and purple with arousal, it glistened with pre-cum. Tom stared at it with horror.

Chakotay rubbed his hand over the weeping end of his cock and then jammed a thick finger into Tom’s mouth.

"Taste me, Tom," he purred and Tom began to suck desperately on Chakotay’s finger.

"Is that good, baby?" Chakotay mocked, "Do you like something to suck?"

Tom looked with despair at Chakotay’s penis as it bobbed threateningly in front of his eyes. "If he puts that in my mouth, I’ll choke," he thought desperately and his throat began to involuntarily spasm. *What will he do if I throw up on him?* Tom asked himself in panic, knowing that the answer was probably worse than even his imagination.

Tom started to sob wildly, his eyes darting in panic, his breath coming in gasps as he began to hyperventilate whilst his abused leg muscles began to tremble so badly that his reddened ass wobbled uncontrollably. "No more…please…no more…. Please…please, Sir," He whimpered and nearly collapsed with relief when Chakotay, watching his antics in amusement, calmly put his cock away again, patting it with regret.

"But that’s a pleasure for another day…I don’t want to damage you too much, Tom, otherwise I might wear you out. I have plans for a very long term relationship with you."  

Tom did not mistake the threat in those words.

"Stand up and get dressed," Chakotay snapped.

Tom started in surprise…was it over, already? He gingerly grasped the end of the dildo to remove it when, in a daze, heard Chakotay say with unconcealed amusement,

"I didn’t tell you to take that out. I said get dressed."

Barely able to move with the dildo jammed deep inside him, Tom had great difficulty in reaching for his clothes and putting them back on. The act of fastening his tight jeans up, pressed the object in even deeper so that he gasped in renewed agony. Finally dressed, his legs as far apart as he could keep them he looked at Chakotay who had returned to the couch. Sweat was pouring down Tom’s forehead, stinging his eyes and beading on his chin. He was biting his lip to stop himself crying out and he felt the coppery taste of his own blood.

Tom swayed against an intense wave of nausea.

"Dismissed," Chakotay said, and picked the padd up again.

"I don’t think I can walk like this," Tom begged.

"Oh, I think you’re going to have to learn to," Chakotay smiled, briefly looking back up from his padd. "Do you really want to still be here if I get up again?" he asked quietly, the menace dripping from his words.

"No, Sir," Tom whispered brokenly and began his slow stagger to the door. The door swooshed open and Tom looked back at the couch but Chakotay's head was bent over the padd once more, as though he had already forgotten Tom's existence.

Slowly and painfully, Tom walked back to his room, bow-legged with agony. When he finally stepped over his own doorway he collapsed to the floor in a heap and the feeling of sickness overwhelmed him. He vomited violently, his almost empty stomach wrenched with the effort. Each spasm of movement drove the dildo impossibly further inside him.

Overwhelmed with the release of terror, he felt his bladder loosen and a dark putrid stain spread from his jeans into the vomit-splattered floor. He lay in his own filth like a wild animal, sobbing and retching for a long time until he simply lay and shuddered with exhaustion, his eyes dull with shock. He was too tired and in too much pain to even attempt to remove his clothes so he lay there feeling the huge alien object inside him and cried himself to a fitful sleep.

~ ~ ~ 

A combination of the lack of dangerous obstacles in her path, and the natural talent that enabled his hands to fly over the helm without conscious thought, was probably the only reason that Voyager survived Tom’s shift.

He had been woken by the sound of his own sobbing and the smell that had immediately assaulted him had made him jump up before he remembered that he had a photon torpedo stuck up his ass.

Wailing with the renewed pain, he had dragged his filthy clothes off and found to his relief that the dildo had slipped out easily enough in the stream of mucus, shit and blood that had poured out of his traumatized rectum. A long shower, the draining of the dermal regenerator in his personal med.-kit and an entire box of painkillers later, he had managed to stagger, sore and a little stoned, into his room and clean up the vile mess from his floor. He had combed his hair, put on a uniform, had fixed his face into a semblance of normality and forgoing breakfast had arrived at the morning briefing with no time to spare.

What a fiasco that had been.

With the Captain still off duty, and thus unaware of any trouble, the meeting had been taken by Chakotay. The Commander had been in an unusually good mood and appeared strangely oblivious to the emotional undercurrents in the room. B’Elanna had been hostile and uncommunicative from the moment Tom arrived, snapping out her engineering reports at a fixed point in the wall above Tuvok’s shoulder.

"The warp nacelles are still sluggish and unresponsive despite our considerable efforts to repair them. They have been subjected to undue stress in the last 62 months, largely due to Voyager being treated like someone’s private pleasure yacht," she spat viciously at Tom, who had somehow managed to merely grin back at her with his patent flyboy smirk.

His lack of response to her jibe only encouraged B’Elanna’s fury.

"I can’t be held responsible for the results of someone else’s antics, and frankly Commander, with the unavailability of spare parts perhaps we should look more closely at the current policy of encouraging dangerous maneuvers at the helm!"

Calmly, Chakotay had steepled his fingers and looked thoughtful before replying.

"I understand your frustration, B’Elanna, and I am aware that some ‘discipline’ issues need to be sorted out," and he had smiled pleasantly at Tom, who had paled slightly under the scrutiny.

"However," Chakotay had continued. "I think that you are overreacting slightly to the problem…or is there another issue here that I’m missing?" and he had gazed with bewildered concern at the half-Klingon.

To her horror, B’Elanna had found tears springing up in response to Chakotay’s kindness. She hurriedly ducked her head.

"No, Sir," she said quietly and Chakotay nodded, sagely, before moving his gaze to Harry.

"Ensign Kim, what have you to report?"

"Um, nothing of interest, Sir, but I’m taking the opportunity to overhaul the Ops console," Harry replied, eagerly.

"Well, keep at it, Mr. Kim, I’m glad to see that you have been paying more attention to your ‘career’ in the last few days," Chakotay said warmly, and as the two pairs of brown eyes locked, Harry was left in no doubt of the Commander’s sudden approval of him. Oddly, the Commander’s new good will seemed to coincide with his argument with Tom, although since there was no way the Commander could know about that, Harry decided that he must have simply picked up on his subsequent attention to duty.

He straightened proudly in his chair and replied "Yes, Sir!" and he knew that he had done the right thing in cutting Tom loose and concentrating on his job for a change. After all, look what the bastard had done to B’Elanna. And okay, Tom looked really odd today, as though he was wearing one of those Mardi Gras masks. The patent Tom Paris smirk looked like a bad make-up job today, barely concealing dark patches under his eyes and pupils so large that his blue eyes looked almost black. But then being caught cheating by B’Elanna would make any guy lose sleep. Even an amoral bastard like Tom.

*You deserve to feel bad,* he thought viciously, remembering how B’Elanna had sobbed in his arms the night before. *You don’t deserve any pity* So why couldn’t he look at the Pilot? Why did he feel so damn guilty? Was it something to do with the strange pleasure he had taken in comforting B’Elanna? The realization that with Tom out of the picture, maybe there was hope for his own secret desires after all?

"Mr. Tuvok," Chakotay continued. "Any security issues that I should be aware of?"

The Vulcan contemplated for a moment before replying.

"All of the crew appear to be working efficiently despite the enforced boredom and the long-time lack of shore-leave. I am aware of no current hostility between crew members."

A small choking sound escaped from Tom.

"Do you have something to add, Mr. Paris?" Chakotay asked with interest.

"Um, no sir. Just something in my throat," Tom mumbled, blushing furiously at the image of Chakotay’s huge cock that sprang into his head at his unfortunate choice of words.

"Perhaps you need to think more about what you are doing when you open your mouth" Chakotay replied mildly and only Tom saw the mocking glitter in his eyes.

*How could the bastard seem so calm, so damned NICE? Why could no one else see through the mask to the malevolent creature that lurked just under Chakotay’s skin?* Tom wondered, helplessly.

After Neelix’s report on the new and interesting diets he had devised to torture the crew with and Seven’s report that Astrometrics was running with near-perfect efficiency, Chakotay brought the meeting to a close.

"Well, gentlemen, that’s all. Dismissed."

He waited until they stood up before casually saying,

"Oh, Ensign Paris?"

Tom turned with studied nonchalance, clenching his fists to stop the sudden trembling in his limbs.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Crewman Dalby reported that your performance in maintenance yesterday was extremely satisfactory!" Chakotay said pleasantly.

B’Elanna stiffened dangerously and spat "I’ll just bet he did," under her breath.

"He has requested that you call by today, straight after your shift to go over a few…loose ends," Chakotay continued, seemingly oblivious to the sudden drop of temperature in the room.

Tuvok noticed the tension, however and raised an eyebrow slightly as he watched Tom stiffen and pale before a brittle smile broke across his face and he whispered "Yes, Sir," before bolting to the helm. He watched the fury on B’Elanna’s face and the concerned pat that Ensign Kim gave her as he followed her onto the bridge.

Tuvok turned to the Commander and said, "It would appear that Ensign Paris has managed to alienate Lieutenant Torres, and it would appear that Mr. Kim is also unhappy with the situation. Do you believe that this will have an impact on crew performance, Commander? Would you like me to investigate further?"

Chakotay looked at the Vulcan with saddened eyes.

"I think that Mr. Paris and Ms. Torres have always had a volatile relationship. I am sure that it will blow over, Mr. Tuvok. I believe that this "alienation" should not effect bridge efficiency. I see no immediate reason for you to pay the matter any attention."

Tuvok nodded in agreement. "Indeed, Commander. I am sure that you are right. Perhaps Mr. Paris will finally learn to behave with proper decorum on the bridge, if not in his personal life."

"I hope so," Chakotay replied sorrowfully. "It would be a shame if further action needed to be taken."

"Indeed."

As the ready room door closed behind the Vulcan’s back, Chakotay released the breath that he had been holding all meeting and began to laugh uproariously.

"Game, set and match, Tom," he sniggered.

~~~

Despite his narcotic haze, Tom had nearly lost it when he had seen B’Elanna but he had too many years of practice to allow his true emotions to show. Admittedly he had choked at the irony of Tuvok’s words but he had stayed cool, almost detached as he marveled at Chakotay’s performance. He could have made it, he thought, he could have coped with the situation, but Chakotay’s last words had been an unexpected blow that had nearly felled him.

"That wasn’t the deal," he whispered to himself in disbelief. "It’s only supposed to be HIM, I’m supposed to be safe from the rest!"

He rocked in misery at the Helm, every movement sending needles of pain up his abused ass.

"It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair…" and he continued the mantra in his head all shift, lost in his personal hell.

Tom made no move to leave the helm at lunch. Tuvok looked over at Chakotay with a questioning eyebrow and Chakotay merely shrugged, so it was not until end of shift that Tom felt a hand on his left shoulder. As he jumped, uttering a small cry of panic, the hand tightened viciously, hidden from the rest of the crew by Chakotay’s bulk.

"Daydreaming, Ensign?" Chakotay laughed pleasantly, only the biting pressure of his fingers showing Tom his displeasure at Tom’s inadvertent cry.

"Sorry, Sir," he managed to whisper.

"Well try not to do it near a planet, okay?"

"No, Sir…sorry Sir…" Tom stuttered.

"You’re due in maintenance now, " Chakotay reminded him .

For a second Tom was afraid that he would either throw up or scream or even fall on his knees and beg for mercy. But the fingers bored mercilessly into his abused shoulder and the pain was like a dash of water in his face.

*Pull yourself together,* he told himself. *Don’t let anyone know…don’t give yourself away or they'll all know you're a victim. They'll all want their pound of flesh.*

Stiffly, his torn ass numb from 8 hours of sitting, Tom pulled himself to his feet.

"Yes, Sir… I’m going there now."

"See that you do, Ensign," Chakotay replied softly, the threat in his eyes unmistakable, and he stood back to let Paris limp slowly off the Bridge.

"May I speak to you in your ready room, Commander?" Tuvok requested.

"Of course, Mr. Tuvok," Chakotay replied pleasantly and led the way.

He felt sick with angry panic. Had Tuvok seen him hurting Tom? Had he guessed Chakotay’s secret? Fear warred with fury but he showed no sign of his inner conflict as he turned a placid face to the Vulcan.

"It is my opinion that Mr. Paris’s inattention today was a reckless endangerment of this ship," Tuvok stated coldly.

Relief flooded through Chakotay along with glee that his plans were proceeding so rapidly.

"I think you are being a little harsh, Mr. Tuvok. I heard at lunchtime that his relationship with B’Elanna is over. We should be a little sympathetic, I think."

"Your sympathy does you credit, Commander, but in my opinion it is ill-placed. Despite Mr. Paris’s undoubted talents there is no doubt that he is capable of acts of extreme negligence. We would not want a repetition of Caldik Prime every time his love life suffers."

"I think that you are being overly judgmental. Tom is only human. You can’t expect him not to let his emotions show."

Only a minute curl of his lip betrayed Tuvok’s distaste.

"I understand Tom’s lack of self-control, Commander, that is why I am making a formal request that he is removed from the helm until the situation is resolved."

Chakotay bit his lip and then sighed loudly.

"All right, Tuvok. I concur. Tom will be reassigned."

"Thank you, Commander."

Chakotay waited for Tuvok to leave before he let the wave of triumph spread over his face.

"Oh, no, Tuvok… Thank YOU!"

Chakotay knew that the only thing that Tom valued was flying. Removing him from the helm would be like cutting the wings off a bird. Tom had lost his best friend, his lover, his pride and now his reason for living. It would be easy to break him now. He had been so careful, knowing that Janeway would question the decision to take Tom off the helm. With the formal request coming from Tuvok, against his own protests, there was no way anyone would guess his hand in this action. He was so squeaky clean that the next step of his plan would be easy.

"Eight years…" he whispered to himself "Eight years I’ve waited and planned this, Paris. But it’s been worth it. Dangling you like a fish on a line, letting you out, bringing you in. Letting you think you were free just long enough that now your spirit will shatter in my hands."

"Computer, initiate privacy lock Chakotay Gamma One," he snapped, walking over to the replicator.

"Computer, one steak, rare!"

As the plate appeared, Chakotay felt a rush of hunger that was almost sexual. He grasped the meat with his hands and ripped into it with his teeth, feeling the blood juices running down his mouth.

"Oh, if they could see me now!" he giggled, and his body convulsed with laughter again.

~~~ 

Tom hovered outside the doors of maintenance, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. Too scared to go in. Too scared not to. The day’s growing tension had eventually coalesced into a pounding headache and he simply couldn’t think straight anymore. 

Sharp needles of pain were darting into the back of his eyes and then congregating in the bridge of his nose. His vision was blurred around the edges and the lights in the corridor seemed abnormally fierce, forcing him to squint against them. All he wanted to do that moment was to curl up in a dark room and sleep.

"Fuck it," he snarled, with false bravado "What’s he going to do to me if I just go back to my quarters?"

But he knew the answer was that Chakotay’s punishment for disobedience was probably 10 times worse than whatever Dalby was planning on doing. Dalby was big and mean but too stupid to play games with Tom’s head like Chakotay had. He would probably hurt Tom and maybe even rape him again but somehow the thought just didn’t instill the pure animalistic horror in him that the idea of displeasing Chakotay did.

He felt his chest tighten dangerously until the effort to breathe, combined with the roaring pain inside his head, made him stagger.

"But it’s not fair!" Tom wailed. "I did exactly what he said. I didn’t tell. I didn’t report him. I didn’t complain. I obeyed him. I did every fucking thing he told me to. He said I was to be HIS." And welling up in the constricting pain in his panicked chest, was that overwhelming emotion that he was feeling actually rejection?

No, it couldn’t be, because if he had sunk that low, that pitiful, then he may as well just give up now, go to Janeway and admit every sordid detail of his past and current debasement.

"But you can’t keep running from the inevitable, Tom," whispered Owen Paris’s voice.

Tom spun in panic in the empty corridor.

He shook his head violently. "NO! No, You’re not real, You’re not here, You’re in my head. Shut up! Shut up!"

"When are you going to learn to take it like a man, Tom?" The voice continued scornfully.

"NO! " Tom screamed desperately "Go away! Get out of my head! I didn’t do anything. I don’t deserve this!"

"Of course you deserve it! You’re a murderer. A liar. A coward. A cheat! You ruined my career. You broke your mother’s heart. You deserve to be punished, Tom."

Tom whimpered helplessly, his hands clasped tightly to his temples in a vain effort to drive the voice out.

"But I’ve changed, " he pleaded. "I’m different now, Dad!"

"Is that why everyone hates you? If you were so different, wouldn’t you have someone to turn to?" the Admiral mocked.

"I can go to the Captain, she gave me a new start, trusted me, gave me the new chance that you never did!" Tom replied bitterly.

"But you threw it in her face, Tom. You let her down. Like you have always let everyone down. She had to demote you, put you in the brig. She hates you now like all the rest of us."

Tom refused to believe the voice, refused to give up his last hope of reprieve. Okay, maybe the Captain wouldn’t believe him, in fact given Chakotay’s award winning performances of late, the chances of anything Tom said being believed was highly unlikely, but then again maybe she would drop him off the ship in disgust at the next habitable planet and hightail on to the Alpha Quadrant leaving him safely behind.

The Admiral’s voice laughed mockingly, "You’re more likely to end up in the brig, and then there’ll be nowhere to run!"

"No, No, you’re wrong and even if you are right she wouldn’t let him do this to me!" Tom gasped desperately.

"Of course she would. She knows what is happening, Tom and she is letting him do it. Why else would she disappear so conveniently to let Chakotay make his move?"

"No! I don’t believe it! Shut up! Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" Tom screamed at himself, closing his eyes and pressing his palms tightly against the sockets. Wave after wave of pain crashed through his skull. The more he tried to think, the faster his thoughts dissolved and floated elusively just out of reach, gossamer threads that broke and spun away under his mental grasp. And still that impossible voice spoke inside his head.

"Do you really think that in all these years Chakotay has never revealed his true nature to her?" the insidious voice continued. "They are probably together now, laughing at you!"

"NO!" Tom screamed at himself, "I don’t believe it, I can’t believe it!" but some part of him did. The part of him that knew that everyone always let him down when he needed them, because he didn’t deserve help.

"So why don’t you check, Tom? Afraid to find out I’m right?"

"Computer, location of Commander Chakotay!" Tom demanded defiantly.

"Commander Chakotay is in holodec 2," the metallic voice replied.

"Computer, who is with Commander Chakotay?"

"Captain Janeway is with Commander Chakotay," the computer replied emotionlessly.

Tom slumped in horror. "Oh, God…Oh God…" he chanted as his legs threatened to give way with his understanding of this ultimate betrayal.

"I told you, Tom," the voice in his head whispered maliciously. "There’s no escape this time. There’s no easy court-martial or early parole. No, you've got to finally pay for what you have done."

"I know!" Tom told himself. "I know."

With weary resignation, he stepped forwards through the door.

~~~

In holodec 2, Captain Kathryn Janeway, intrepid leader of Voyager, was sat in Michael’s bar in Fairhaven where she had been staying for the last three days. The healthy glow that she had been slowly obtaining had withered at Chakotay’s report.

"Oh, poor Tom," she said, shaking her head in resignation. "Why does he do these things to himself? I always thought that his relationship with B’Elanna was fragile but why did he have to throw it away?"

"I don’t know, Kathryn. I couldn’t believe it when I found out that he’d been sleeping with Ken Dalby for the whole of his relationship with B’Elanna, but when I asked Dalby he confirmed it!" Chakotay said sadly. "It seems he has been seeing other people too!"

"So why has the break up affected him badly enough for Tuvok to want him off the bridge?" Kathryn asked in confusion.

"I guess he was too cocky to think he’d ever be caught. He didn’t expect to get found out," Chakotay replied. "And Harry seems to have decided that enough is enough and has taken B’Elanna’s side. Understandable really."

"So he’s lost his best friend as well as his girlfriend and God knows, no-one else seems to be close to him," Kathryn mused. "Well, I can’t say that I didn’t expect better of Tom but then that’s the problem. I always look for the good in him. Maybe there simply isn’t any to be found!" she said in defeat.

"You can’t blame yourself for trying to help him, Kathryn. Spirits, you’ve always gone out on a limb for him and he’s always betrayed you. In fact, although it saddens me to say it, maybe this finally proves that he’s incapable of honesty at any level," Chakotay said quietly.

"I don’t want to believe you. I have always thought that you are too hard on him. That you disliked him for some reason that I was unaware of. But maybe you have been right all along. I’ll bow to your judgment in this, Chakotay, since you seem to have more impartiality than I do in this matter. Maybe a few weeks in sickbay with the Doctor will teach him the self-discipline he clearly lacks!"

"Are you going to cut short your vacation?"

Kathryn looked around herself and sighed deeply.

"No, I don’t think so. I’ll leave Tom in your capable hands. He’s ruined enough people’s lives already this week without ruining my holiday!" and putting the problem that was Tom Paris aside, she smiled impishly at him.

"Care for a drink before you go, Chakotay?"

"I don’t mind if I do," he replied, and sat back contentedly as she signaled him a beer.

It was all going perfectly to plan.

~~~

When Tom entered Maintenance, Dalby’s face split into a grin so evil that it chilled Tom to the bone.

"I can’t do this," he told himself in sudden panic and took a step backward, ready to flee. A firm hand in the middle of his back stopped his progress. He jumped in terror and spun around to look up into the large emotionless face of Greg Ayala. His mind flashed back to the first months after the Maquis joined Voyager, when Ayala had trapped him in the cargo bay and taken him repeatedly and then fisted him so badly that he had to have emergency surgery from the EMH. 

He had never understood why the Doctor had no memory of the incident, why his grievous injuries had never shown up on medical or security records. Now he knew who had covered the assault up. Ayala had never touched him since. Probably he’d been warned off for damaging the merchandise.

Tom began to shake in terror. He felt his bowels loosen and cringed in humiliation as the rising smell gave away his loss of all bodily control.

"Really shitting yourself now, hey Paris?" Dalby laughed as Tom’s face burned.

"Just makes our job easier," snapped Ayala, grabbing Tom by the collar and dragging him into one of the cleaning bays.

Tom found himself thrust against the wall and held there by one of Ayala’s huge hands while the one on his collar pulled back violently, ripping his uniform in half. In seconds he was naked.

"Come on, Dalby, I haven’t got all night!" Ayala snarled and then with a vicious kick he opened Tom’s legs.

"Don’t, don’t…please don’t," Tom whimpered hopelessly.

"Got it" came Dalby’s voice.

"Well, hand it to me, you idiot. I don’t want to let him go!"

Tom felt a pressure on his butt and then felt something slim, cold and rubbery thrust up his ass.

"What are you doing? What the hell is that?" he screamed.

"Let’s show him," Ayala said to Dalby and flipped a switch.

Tom was suddenly thrust violently against the wall as the high-pressure hose was turned on. He twisted in agony as the water forced its way into his gut. He felt his stomach beginning to distend horribly as he filled up with the endless flow of water.

"Okay, cut the switch now," Ayala snapped but Dalby waited a few more seconds with a cruel smile on his face before complying. Paris thought that he would literally burst. He screamed helplessly in an odd high-pitched wail as Ayala held him firmly against the wall for several minutes. Then the hose was roughly yanked back out of him and Ayala let him go. Tom collapsed heavily to his knees, whimpering piteously.

"Okay, Greg… better stand back. You know what they say. What goes in must come out!" Dalby laughed and Ayala jumped back just in time to avoid the back rush as all of the water came flooding back out of Tom onto the floor of the stall.

Tom’s bowels contracted over and over, every particle of waste being eliminated with the water. After about ten minutes, when Tom had finished convulsing on the floor and he was sure that Tom was empty, Ayala grabbed the hose again and sluiced Tom down with the fierce, freezing water. When he finally turned off the hose Tom was huddled in the middle of a clean stall, trembling in cold and shock.

Dalby stepped forwards and grabbing the blond’s wet hair, yanked Tom to his feet. He looked into blue eyes that stared back in dazed bewilderment.

"Chakotay said you were to be clean inside and out, didn’t he?"

"Y.. Y.. Y.. Yes," Tom managed through his wildly chattering teeth as understanding dawned.

"Well you’ve never been good at following orders so until you get the point, you’ll have to come and see us every day!" Dalby smirked. "We have generously decided to help you, Tom. What do you say?"

"W..W.. W.. What?"

"Say thank you, Tom," Dalby ordered with cruel satisfaction.

"Th…Th… Th… Thank you," Tom mumbled in defeat, humiliation burning his face.

"Okay, Greg. Where did you put it?"

"What? This?" Ayala grinned, stepping forwards with the twin to last night’s dildo, only this one had several leather straps hanging from the base.

"No…no…please…" Tom mumbled as he saw the object.

"Shut the fuck up, Paris. No one here gives a shit what you have to say," Dalby snarled. "Bend over!"

Helplessly Tom obeyed.

Dalby grabbed a handful of engineering grease and plastered it into Tom’s ass with a brutal thumb and finger before taking the dildo from Ayala and jamming it into Tom.

As Tom screamed with pain and humiliation, he felt the straps being done up around his thighs, holding the dildo firmly in place and then the last strap was wrapped tightly around the base of his balls and cock.

"Stand up," Ayala growled and as Tom straightened himself painfully, Ayala thrust a pair of loose jogging bottoms and a matching T-shirt at him.

"Get dressed Paris, then go to the mess hall. Chakotay will find you there later. You had better not disappoint him."

Grinning at each other, Dalby and Ayala walked towards the door, Dalby turning as he left.

"See you same time tomorrow, Paris…oh and since those clothes took the last of your replicator rations, I suggest you remember to bring the dildo with you and that you undress yourself tomorrow or you’ll have to walk out naked."

Ayala chuckled and slapped Dalby on the shoulder in appreciation as they left.

~~~

"I don’t understand how I could have been so stupid", B’Elanna said for the umpteenth time. "I knew he was a pig! How could I have been so stupid, Harry? How could I have fallen in love with him?" She banged her fork down in frustration and the plates on the mess hall table jumped and clattered.

"It wasn’t your fault, B’Elanna. He fooled us both. I thought he was my friend, I thought he told me everything. Well, he never told me he was gay!"

"That’s what I really don’t get, Harry," B’Elanna replied, her anger suddenly replaced by complete bewilderment. "I mean if it had been Sue or the Delaneys or even Seven I would have understood, killed him maybe, but I would have at least understood it. How could he have spent all these years chasing after every woman on board if he really wanted a relationship with a man? How could he have done this to me?"

"Well, I shouldn’t say this probably, but I heard Dalby talking to someone earlier and it appears that this wasn’t a one-off."

"What do you mean, Harry?"

"I don’t know if I should tell you, I mean it’s just gossip I overheard."

"TELL ME!"

"Dalby said that it had been going on for years. That he had refused to let Tom make the relationship public because his Maquis friends hated Tom so much. He said that Tom’s affairs had been a smokescreen and that, that….." Harry hesitated at the murderous look in B’Elanna’s eyes.

"TELL ME, HARRY."

"That he had gone steady with you because you liked rough sex so it was easier to get turned on, even though you’re a woman," Harry finished in a rush, wondering whether he had gone too far.

B’Elanna’s face was almost purple with outrage. For a moment Harry feared that her temper would be turned on him and gulped in fear as he imagined her fork being embedded in him so deeply that he would have to wear it as a permanent extra arm. Fury flashed in her dark eyes and he hunched his shoulders protectively before he realized that her gaze was directed behind him. Turning his head cautiously he saw Tom coming slowly into the mess hall. He looked unusually pale and obviously was walking with difficulty.

"Where’s he been? He looks like he’s in pain," Harry murmured with concern before remembering that he wasn’t supposed to care.

"He’s been in maintenance with Dalby! Remember?" B’Elanna spat, "Why do you think he’s walking like he’s had a shuttle parked in his ass? Fucking bastard!"

The mess hall was filled with a sudden unnatural silence as she stood up. The other diners all ducked their heads in embarrassment as she stalked over to Tom, although more than a few furtive glances were cast at the scene which would undoubtedly be the highlight of the next day’s gossip.

Tom froze at her approach. He could barely stand straight and his cognitive processes seemed to have gone on holiday. He had come here because that's what he had been told to do. He had not even considered the possibility of meeting B’Elanna here and his mind swirled with panic.

He couldn’t possibly have been thinking clearly or else he would have controlled the instinctive expression that always appeared on his face in times of stress; the Tom Paris smirk.

With an outraged howl that would have rivaled any Klingon war cry, B’Elanna jumped forwards and smashed her fist into his jaw. Tom was spun back into the galley and crashed heavily to his knees. He made no attempt to get up. Neelix ran out of the kitchen in a panic

"What’s happening, oh no, oh no, you mustn’t do this, " he cried, fussing helplessly with his apron.

Meanwhile Harry had bravely taken his life in his hands and had grabbed B’Elanna by the arm.

"Don’t do this, Bel, he’s not worth it!"

No one had rushed to help Tom. Realizing that no one would, Tom slowly dragged himself to his feet.

"Should I call security?" Neelix squeaked

"No," Tom replied quietly "It was my fault. I deserved it."

"Damn right you did and if you come near me again I’ll kill you," B’Elanna hissed before letting Harry drag her out of the mess hall.

While everybody else studied their plates, Neelix helped Tom to an empty table and if he wondered why a punch in the jaw should make Tom grimace in such pain as he sat, he kept it to himself. His bright eyes looked around in confusion at the indifferent crewmembers. This wasn’t good for morale. Not good at all!

"Stay there," he said kindly. "I’ll get you some ice for that jaw and something good to eat. Maybe some nice Leola root stew…yes…that’s just the thing," and he disappeared back into the kitchen, bewildered at what had just happened and wondering why he had evidently been left out of a juicy loop of gossip.

~~~

It was 2330. Neelix had finally given up on trying to get the unresponsive Ensign to leave and had cleared up around him and turning the lights down to 30% had left the young man sitting in front of his untouched dinner.

Vaguely Tom had been aware of the passing hours, of the loud whispers and furtive glances as the other occupants of the mess hall had left. Even after the final silence of the Talaxian's departure he had just sat there in a daze, unable to move.

All he was aware of was the fact that he had been told to wait here for Chakotay and since Chakotay hadn’t arrived, he couldn’t leave. The unbearable tension had faded to be replaced by a numb feeling of ‘otherness’ as though he floated above himself, watching events unfurl from outside of his body.

He was aware of an intense lethargy, a desire to slump forwards onto the table and sleep, a wish to escape into dreams if only for a short while, but the dildo forced him to maintain an upright position despite the trembling of his overtired muscles. Even the smallest movement sent needles of what he vaguely perceived as pain, and unconsciously he obeyed his body’s demands to remain still.

Even in the dimmed light anyone would have noticed the silent tears that streamed down his weary face. But then, there was no one there to see.

~~~

At 0430 Chakotay’s alarm chimed loudly, waking him from a deep sleep.

For a moment he was disorientated and angry at the intrusion, then a slow smile spread across his face as he remembered why he had set himself the early call. Dressing swiftly he stopped long enough to grin at the reflection in his mirror and then picking up a padd from his desk, he went to the mess hall,

Even in the silent, darkened room he immediately spotted the motionless form of Tom Paris sat in an unnaturally rigid position in the middle of the room. Cat-like he crossed silently and casually sat opposite him. Tom didn’t react. His face was frozen, his eyes dazed and dark with pain.

For a long time Chakotay just sat and stared at the younger man, almost drunk with the feeling of complete and utter triumph. Until the mess hall doors had opened he had not truly believed that Tom would still be there. He was almost giddy with the knowledge that Paris was finally broken. That he had won! But, just in case there was even an atom of free will left in the blond, he still had one more Ace card to play.

He snapped his hand out and slapped Tom across the face.

Tom didn’t cry out, he merely shook his head like a dumb animal before blinking slowly and raising dull eyes to the Commander.

"Thank you for waiting for me, Paris, sorry I’m late," Chakotay mocked. "I merely wanted to give you this," and he placed the padd on the table.

Tom looked at the padd in bewilderment but made no effort to pick it up.

"Ask me what it is," Chakotay snapped.

"What is it, Sir?" Tom whispered.

"The duty roster for the next month."

"Oh," Tom said vaguely.

"I thought you might be interested in it, Paris."

"Oh," Tom repeated.

"Ask me why," Chakotay growled, frustrated by Tom’s apathy.

"Why, Sir?" Tom obediently replied.

"Because, as of 1800 hours yesterday, Ensign Paris has been relieved from the helm due to wanton dereliction of duty and is assigned full-time to sick bay until further notice," Chakotay purred.

As though from a great distance, the words floated into Tom’s sluggish brain. Tom had slept less than three hours in the last two days. He was light-headed from hunger. He had been raped, battered, punched in the face and humiliated. He had had his life ripped in pieces. He had sat on a hard mess hall chair for 8 hours with nine inches of thick rigid plastic rammed up his ass. It was no wonder, then, that it took a long time for the words to whirl around in the jumble of his thoughts before understanding dawned.

Just when he had believed that he was beyond suffering any more pain, the Commander’s words, finally grasped, were like an arrow into his battered soul. His eyes flashed and he gasped with horror. Wide-eyed he looked at Chakotay’s face and the Commander’s grin of pure malevolence dissolved any semblance of self-respect that Tom had retained.

"Oh no, Sir… please…. I’ll do anything, ANYTHING. Don’t do this. I’m begging you Commander," he sobbed uncontrollably. "Begging you, Sir… It’s all I have got left. Don’t take that away too! Please! Please! Flying is everything to me. Don’t do this to me. Please."

"Too late, Paris! It’s done."

In mindless panic Tom staggered to his feet and around the table to drop on his knees before the Commander and he clutched Chakotay's legs desperately like a terrified child.

"Please…please…don’t do this to me," he begged.

Chakotay face was like granite. He sat silent and unresponsive as Tom sobbed on his knees. Aware his pleading was having no effect, Tom’s tired and abused brain sought desperately for a way to pierce the Indian’s disinterest. Memories of prison assailed him, memories of how to use hard-earned talents to buy favors. Frantically he began to fumble with Chakotay’s uniform, clawing at the material to release the huge aroused cock that had horrified him the night before. Now he saw it as his only possible salvation. He couldn’t think past the urge to pacify the angry Commander.

Frantic lips grasped the end of the engorged cock. He ran a feather light tongue teasingly up the weeping slit, tasting the salty musk of Chakotay’s pre-cum. He worked his way up, kissing and licking as though his life depended on it. One by one he suckled on Chakotay’s balls until a soft groan above his head gave him the encouragement to open his mouth and swallow the Commander's huge member. Desperately fighting the urge to gag, Tom relaxed his throat until his mouth was mashed against Chakotay’s groin.

Bracing his feet and grabbing the back of Tom’s head to hold it firmly in place, Chakotay began to respond to Tom’s expert ministrations, viciously thrusting in and out of Tom’s hot mouth.

Tom’s whole body was rocked with each violent thrust. Chakotay’s hands tightened in Tom’s hair and tears of fresh pain pooled in the dazed blue eyes. With each jerk of his body, the huge dildo scraped maddeningly against Tom’s prostate and the intense pleasurable stimulation warred with the pain until he lost the distinction between them. As the sensation went on, faster and harder, Tom found his groin responding. The leather thong around his balls dug cruelly into his involuntary erection and as the pressure grew he lost all self-control and frantically humped himself against Chakotay’s legs in rhythm with Chakotay’s own thrusts. 

Chakotay stood up to give himself more leverage and banged into Tom’s mouth as though he would rip it apart. Desperately Tom sucked and siphoned until with a great roar of triumph, Chakotay came inside him, filling his throat with hot salty cum.

Chakotay shuddered with pleasure at the hot, wet sensation as Tom’s throat sucked him dry. Tom’s reaction to the news had been far more satisfying than Chakotay had dared imagine. The others had not exaggerated the skill of Tom’s pretty mouth. Angrily resisting an unexpected urge to run his fingers through the soft blond hair, he stepped back abruptly, letting his softened cock slide out of Tom’s limp mouth and noticed with pleasure the unmistakable bulge in Tom’s trousers.

"You seem to have a problem, Paris," he noted scornfully.

Tom’s limpid eyes met his in an agony of lust as the pressure in his groin strained against the leather thong.

Chakotay considered for a moment, then shrugged magnanimously

"Take care of it."

With an amused grin, he sat back to watch as Tom, whimpering with relief, pushed the jogging bottoms down to reveal his engorged penis and fumbled desperately with the tight strap until his weeping erection sprang free.

Chakotay was surprised at how erotic he found the sight before him as, lost in his need, Tom ran his graceful fingers frantically along his swollen cock. It took no more than a few seconds before the young pilot shuddered, screaming loudly as his orgasm ripped through him and his cum shot forwards in an arc, splattering Chakotay’s boots.

Shuddering and gasping with the intensity of his release, Tom slowly came to his senses and burned with humiliation at his body’s betrayal. He ducked his head, overwhelmed with shame.

"You’ve made a mess, Paris. Lick it up."

For a second Tom hesitated and then he bent forwards in submission and obeyed.

Chakotay almost had another orgasm at the rush of power he felt, as he looked down at the sight of a half-naked Tom Paris on his knees, subserviently licking his own cum off his boots. He couldn’t imagine anything more satisfying than the scion of the Paris household groveling at his feet, cringing like a beaten puppy. He had to resist a sudden impulse to kick Tom in the face.

As Tom gave a last lick and rocked back on his heels, Chakotay stood , zipped himself up and strode towards the door without a word. Tom jumped up to follow but he forgot the trousers around his ankles in his haste and sprawled back on the floor.

"Commander!" he cried desperately and to his relief, Chakotay hesitated at the doorway and turned to listen.

"Yes, Paris?"

"The helm, Sir. Please…"

"I told you, Paris. You’re relieved of duty."

"But…but I thought, I thought…"

"Thought what, Paris? That I would accept a blow job as the price of your re-instatement?"

Burning with humiliation, Tom nodded helplessly.

"You seem to forget that you are mine now, Paris. I don’t have to pay you for what it is now my right to take."

"But…."

"You’re hardly in a position to complain, Paris, I’ve never met a whore who enjoyed being used as much as you evidently did tonight."

As Tom ducked his head in renewed shame at the evident truth of the cruel words, Chakotay laughed with satisfaction and strode out of the door.

~~~ 

If it were possible for a self-aware hologram to feel real emotion, the Doctor would have described himself as royally pissed off. As it was, he cursed his programmers for failing to provide the sub-routines necessary for dealing successfully with smart-mouthed, arrogant assholes like the pilot. Ex-pilot, he corrected himself.

He had been horrified when he had been notified of the new crew roster as soon as he had activated himself that morning. The thought of spending the next four weeks with Tom Paris as his unwilling full-time assistant had been enough to make him consider decompiling himself.

It wasn’t that the young man wasn’t a capable assistant. Indeed, to be fair, he had come a long way from his basic field medic training and had proved himself an asset in several genuine emergencies.

No. It wasn’t so much his lack of experience that bothered the Doctor, it was his attitude. His tendency to treat his sick bay duties as though they were beneath him. The way he constantly moaned and complained as he did the more routine tasks. How he bitched constantly that he was a pilot not a nurse. The incessant, inappropriate smirks and wisecracks with which he irritated the Doctor beyond endurance.

He had angrily conned Chakotay with a virulent protest at what he considered to be the Commander’s high-handed decision.

"I fail to understand why it is necessary to inflict Mr. Paris on ME! Surely the brig would be more appropriate. What have I done? Why should I have to suffer for his misdemeanors?" he had complained.

"What Tom needs is to learn ships discipline, Doctor. He won’t learn that by sitting in the brig, moping and feeling sorry for himself. He’ll learn it by hard work," Chakotay had replied firmly

"Hard work and Tom Paris are mutually exclusive," the Doctor sniffed, somewhat unfairly considering how much he had recently been availing himself of Tom’s programming masterpiece, Fairhaven. (Somehow the open-door policy of the program which everyone enjoyed had allowed everyone to conveniently forget who they should have thanked for it. In fact, it was only when something went wrong, and they needed a butt to kick, that anyone remembered Tom’s hand in the creation.) 

"I think you will find that that has changed, Doctor. The Captain has given the situation to me; to deal with as I see fit. There will be no more acc