Human beings are sentimental creatures. Spock had long ago ceased questioning why it was so. That it was so, and how the icons of their culture served as lynch pins in the human imagination was useful knowledge which Spock now eagerly embraced.
As historical events have demonstrated, one ignores the power of human folly at one's own peril.
Spock had realized recently, in one awful epiphanous moment, that (especially if one has a compelling interest in the manipulation of one special human being!) it was necessary to become familiar with the machinations of the human mind, particularly of the psychosexual complexities. Spock had once glimpsed its power - had experienced it once himself as a child, melded mind to mind in the arms of his Terran mother. Now he was beginning to remember, and appreciate anew the fantastic weaponry eroticism could provide to one who understood its mysteries and wielded its weapons wisely. Whether Spock possessed the necessary wisdom was as yet unknown, but that he had the will and need to try was quite clear. He could no longer afford to remain a pacifist, unarmed in the battle of love.
The reason for Spock's new, intense interest in quaint Terran erotic classics was personal... ever since his very unusual Captain, James Kirk, had insisted on intruding himself into Spock's mind, life, and bed during his first Pon Farr, at a time when Spock was mentally vulnerable, and unusually receptive erotically to such blandishments. Spock had felt he was within his rights to now return the favor: to set his hook deep into Jim's psychology in a manner that was equivalent. He felt himself to be, in his intimate relationship with Jim, at a distinct disadvantage, and he urgently needed to even the odds. Toward this end, he began by studying De Sade.
Jim had meant no harm: he'd had only the fondest wishes in his conscious mind. Spock understood that. There was no resentment. To the contrary, Spock felt himself to be deeply in love with Jim: to be bound to him, body to body, and soul to soul, for life. Unfortunately, that too had never been Jim's intention. When Spock looked down one day to see that the road he now trod with such a sweetly heavy heart was paved with nothing but Jim's good intentions, he fully understood what road it was that Jim had unwittingly set him upon, and he wished now only to be sure he would not walk that way alone.
Unlike Vulcans, humans do not mate for life. As sincere, as ardent as they might appear - even the best, the most loyal among them are changeable in their affections. As a whole, the entire race is fickle. Spock had never minded this perfectly natural tendency until it threatened his own peace of mind and personal way of life. He now, naturally, held a different view.
Spock's jealous Vulcan father had minimized the danger in his marriage by keeping his human wife, Spock's mother, always at his side or under guard. She had lived a closely circumscribed life, but had cheerfully accepted these restrictions as a necessary thing. Spock was sure that Jim too would ultimately accept his new restrictions, but he was equally sure that he would need extraordinary... encouragement... to do so. But how to accomplish this in the most graceful and effective manner possible? Spock did not know the answer, but he knew how to find out.
Research. Spock needed information.
That Kirk was a masochist Spock already knew. Jim was the one who had volunteered this information. Trembling with an evident mixture of dread and delight, Jim had recently shown Spock the private collection of homely sex toys which he had acquired bit by bit over the years, and which he had kept hidden (until that evening) in a small canvas duffle bag, secreted in a drawer under his bunk. He had never before showed anyone these things, nor had even ever spoken of them before. It was his own most closely guarded secret. Now, he let Spock know that he wished for it to be their shared love-secret.
What a strange experience it had been for Spock to bear witness to that intimate revelation. What an eerie sensation to see his normally confident Captain kneel before him humbly, blushing shyly, with the opened bag at Spock's booted feet, and to listen to him explain his silly fetishes with that childlike awkwardness. His face had worn a pleading expression as he glanced upward frequently for Spock's reaction to the tutorial, obviously fearing rejection, painfully anxious for approval, for understanding. Evidently, he had never needed Spock's love more than he did now.
He showed Spock these things: a worn leather belt with a dull brass buckle; a very old leather razor strop which he apparently cherished; a crude handmade whip two feet long which was fashioned of leather thongs; A plain, smooth, plywood paddle; several short lengths of white rope in one grubby bundle; a half-used roll of industrial tape (bits of lint clinging to its sticky sides); a slightly soiled looking 2 quart size red rubber enema bag which he handled delicately, with veneration; a slightly greasy boot lace; a weird conical plastic object he called a "butt-plug"; a colorful but faded cotton bandana, well worn; a pair of old Terran police-style handcuffs (with keys), the bright finish dulled with many minute scratches - evidence of long life and much use; and most queer of all, a lightly gnawed ping-pong ball. Deeper within the bag could be seen some other odds and ends, including perhaps a dozen wooden spring-hinged clothespins, a folding pocket knife, and a straight razor. That last, like the strop, was a real antique. Jim had taken this last item out, passed it to Spock with a turbulent expression in his bright eyes, and urged Spock to hold and examine it closely, which Spock gingerly agreed to do (without enthusiasm).
Spock, moved most of all by pity for the man, cautiously agreed to examine all these things, and listened patiently and thoughtfully as Jim described their functions and explained their typical uses. To inspire Spock, he then had volunteered to demonstrate how he had managed to employ these bizarre objects in his eccentric solitary rituals. Overwhelmed by curiosity, Spock agreed to this as well, and had watched silently, stunned into passivity by pure fascination, as Jim undressed, popped the ping-pong ball into his mouth, secured the ball into place with the bandana, bound his own genitals with the boot lace, clipped clothespins onto his own nipples, and tied himself up with the rope, supine at Spock's feet, to masturbate to a quick and forceful climax with his one free hand.
Very interesting. Now what?
After some conversation, Jim had returned his ropes and such to the canvas kit bag and taken out the belt and whip to demonstrate before Spock's unblinking obsidian gaze the way he liked to punish himself. After efficiently covering his own broad back, round buttocks, and muscular thighs with a crosshatching of thin and wide pink welts, Jim asked Spock to try wielding the belt - just once!
Spock demurred. He'd seen enough. He was reluctant to touch any of Jim's things, but the old, brown animal skin belt was particularly repugnant, although of course he didn't say so.
Jim hesitated to believe that Spock was refusing his chance. He waited, stopped in time, belt in outstretched hand, handsomely glowing, flushed and panting from his recent exertions. He finally lowered his hand with its unwanted offering... looking crestfallen, but resigned. After a beat, he straightened his posture as his half-hard cock began to relax. He politely thanked Spock for his attention, for which he seemed sincerely grateful.
It had been an emotionally and physically exhausting seance, and since it was the end of a long day Jim was now ready for sleep. Kirk stepped up and kissed Spock on the lips, then turned abruptly away and briskly stowed his kit. He then stepped away and locked himself in the bath in a manner that Spock instantly understood to mean that he had been dismissed and should leave. So he exited quietly without further parley, but not without a pang of regret.
A keen sensation, that, and not a pleasant one. In retrospect, he understood his error. He'd been offered an opportunity, while Jim's sensitive mind was wide open, to step directly into the starring role of Jim's perverse erotic dreams, and had failed to do so. Terrible. He now sensed again with sharp, sickening stab of horrible regret what a golden opportunity had been wasted. Ah, well! One can't win them all.
He was determined to win the next round, and for all time. He had to, for both their sakes.
Several weeks passed. During that time Jim and Spock met at odd intervals when circumstances permitted to make love, but as usual this consisted of nothing more than oral sex. It was possible for Spock to believe that this was enough to keep Jim content, until one day when Jim suddenly could be found again swooning dizzily after yet another female figure, helpless in the grip of yet another one of his infatuations. Spock had tolerated these before, since they generally led nowhere, but this was the worst. Jim's inamorata turned out to be nothing more than a very sophisticated, exquisitely well-fashioned _android_.
Well! This was too much! Spock had been persuaded by Jim to regard human mating urges as something sacrosanct, but to be replaced within an hour at the center of Jim's heart by a mechanical contrivance was the final insult, and Spock could bear no more. Things would now change, that was all. Jim could not be trusted to be wise in the ways of his own heart. Spock would take control. But how? That was the question.
Knowing that Jim loved literature and artifacts pertaining to what was known among Terrans as the Victorian era, Spock focused his attention, one fine morning, on sadomasochistic novels of that peculiar time. The group of secretive authors known to modern readers collectively as "Anonymous" produced a particularly interesting array of materials fit for close examination. Spock at first focused on the offerings of the Americans, but soon realized that the English had more of value in this genre to offer. Two of several worthwhile English works struck Spock as being most pungently and palpably to the point. These, Spock committed to memory.
Normally, Spock would have taken the information in visually, by scanning the digital records at incredible speed with his viewer, but since Spock was reading while at his station on the bridge, he had to keep a part of his awareness available for the activities related to his immediate duty. Therefore Spock was reading in his least favorite way, via earpiece. The documents were fed to him via the earpiece as binary code, and Spock then translated this within his own fantastically talented mind into a pure memory of the words and their meaning without needing to also visualize the words as if he had seen the pages displayed before his eyes.
Simultaneously, Spock was reprogramming the ship's computer to more efficiently analyze data. This was a software upgrade he had struggled long for the permission to implement, and when approval finally came he had leapt upon this task with the alacrity of a tiger tackling hard-won prey. Spock was also reorganizing the ship's library file system. Might as well. A nanosecond's extra infuriating delay when fetching one of the novels inspired this little project. Simultaneously, Spock was composing music, listening to music, reviewing a recent scientific journal, performing a routine ship's stores inventory, and playing chess against the computer.
Jim wasn't the only one who needed relief from boredom in tedious times, but that is specifically his weakness, Spock thought, nodding. Jim has a lust for excitement.
Spock sensed a shift in the ineffable field of energy which surrounded himself and knew inwardly, without knowing how he knew, that Jim was returning to the bridge. Sure enough, the lift opened moments later and Spock knew, without looking to see, that the Captain was back from lunch and ready to resume his place in the large Captain's chair which dominated the center of the room. In his peripheral vision he detected that the navigator and helmsman both were straightening in their chairs, abandoning their former indolent attitudes.
Spock turned in his chair and confirmed Jim's presence with his eyes. Jim was just now taking his seat, carrying an aromatic cup of coffee. The enticing aroma now reached Spock's nostrils as the soft wave of air Jim had set in motion with his movements finished its journey across the bridge.
<< "So, you will not obey me?" said Harriet, her voice almost stifled with suppressed fury. "So much the worse for you!"
She pulled the hood over her head; Richard, seeing the ominous gesture, gave a shriek of terror and closed his eyes. The next moment he felt the leather lashes cutting into him where he lay.... >>
Jim caught Spock's eye and winked, with a small smile. "Status, Mr. Spock?"
"No new developments, Captain." Spock intoned, knowing as he said this that it was untrue. Nevertheless the new developments were a personal matter, not a matter for public mention.
"You may take your lunch now if you like, Spock. You too, Sulu."
"Thank you Captain, I'll do that." Mr. Sulu pleasantly replied, and the slender young man looked to Spock as he stood to leave, expecting they would leave together.
"You may go ahead, Mr. Sulu. I'll be delayed for a short time." Spock said. He was actively enjoying _Harriet Marwood, Governess_, by "Anonymous", and wished to finish it without stopping.
As Sulu exited, Jim noticed Spock wore an odd, faraway expression on his austere, exotic face.
"Problem, Mr. Spock?" he asked, gently.
"Not at all, Captain." Spock said, adjusting his earpiece slightly. "I am merely, at the moment, fully absorbed in my preoccupations."
Jim nodded, reassured. He sipped his steaming coffee and stared at the moving starfield on the main viewer for a few moments, then shifted in his seat and asked Lt. Uhura to put on a movie. Jim loved looking at the stars, but even he could get enough of it.
Kirk and Spock's relationship was unique. Spock was a unique creature with a most remarkable partner. The unique situation they found themselves in created unique difficulties. The lack of privacy was a huge problem. Jim, as Captain, might by rights be interrupted even during his most private hours at any moment by nearly any person aboard the Enterprise in the event of even minor emergencies. The Captain of a starship was in many ways like the mother of many small children. Kirk retained no right to be let strictly alone, ever. Nor, as his first officer, did Spock.
To most conveniently rearrange Jim's thinking and habits, privacy, indeed absolute seclusion, would be best. Alas, it was impossible to sequester themselves far from sight and entirely out of other's minds. It was impossible to be sure of having enough time and privacy at any time, although there were times when the probabilities were in their favor, and this was fortunately one of those times. At their present course and speed they were likely to encounter nothing of great interest for weeks. They were traveling a commonly used lane en route once more to the popular Benecia colony, on what was in the vernacular known as a "milk run", meaning their routine was destined for a time to be dull. A prime time for Spock to institute Jim's new regimen. Fortunately, it would also be months before Jim was due for another routine physical examination. Perfect.
There would be no better time to begin. Spock wouldn't wait for an occasion, but would create the occasion himself, knowing that his restless lover would eagerly welcome any fresh stimulation during this tedious leg of the trip. It was for the best if his victim would willingly submit.
While hidden away in his cabin, Spock ruminated over his recent readings in his imagination as he ate his lunch - a large green salad, sans dressing.
The decision had been made. Spock's plan remained to be laid. His problem now was to derive whatever useful ideas he could from his research and translate them, combining that with what he already knew about Jim, to arrive at a practical method for achieving his desire, which was simply to assure himself ever after of Jim Kirk's unswerving fidelity.
As Jim Kirk had suspected he would, Spock turned out to be a very unusual partner. Spock was different. Really different! They'd settled upon fellatio as the neatest solution for the practical side of it, but the mental side was a universe of variety in all possible forms of splendor. The mind meld! Wow! A fantastic technique that turned out to have incredible erotic uses. Jim had become virtually addicted to dissolving himself into Spock. He loved riding Spock's powerful mind in his imagination to and through all manner of wondrous realms of mental adventure.
Too bad he couldn't retain more in his memory. His human brain apparently wasn't built that way. Keeping Spock's thoughts in his mind after separation proved as impossible as keeping a bucketful of water in the palm of your hand. It wouldn't work, because it didn't fit.
Still, it was fun to try!
Always, after sex with Spock, Jim was left tingling all over with nothing but vague, shimmering impressions of what had been a richly detailed psychosexual experience. But that did not discourage Jim, it just kept him coming back for more. The exhilaration of the exercise was what it was really all about. That, and the physical relief, of course.
Jim was very happy, after all, that he had taken it upon himself to be Spock's partner during Pon Farr. The match was a good one. There was however, one problem. Since the fire of Pon Farr had burned low and was now only embers, Spock lacked passion. They still had good sex, but Jim always had to take the initiative, and furthermore Spock now needed more stimulation to orgasm. He didn't go entirely dormant sexually as a full-blood Vulcan man would, but damn near.
This was not a problem for Spock. For Jim, who was in love and who consequently was hornier than ever, it was a problem! Everything in his own biological system was giving the green light. All systems on his end were go, go, go, but Spock was gone, gone, gone. It was like a bird trying to fly with one wing.
Maddening. It was like the line from that old song...
"...like watching ice cream melt when you're hungry..."
No wonder Jim still felt himself tempted to stray. If Spock had been all there for him, Jim would have felt fully satisfied. As it was, well, something was missing, and after all he was still human, and women still found him very attractive, as they never tired of telling him. It wasn't as if Jim went hunting, but when a beautiful, perfectly suitable woman was practically climbing him like she's the monkey and he's the banana tree, what would any sensible person expect him to do? After all, Jim was not made of stone. He was a sensitive, emotional human, with the usual human needs, and the perfectly natural human reactions to certain basic things should be expected. Human nature: just another natural law. It was nothing personal, Spock!
Jim was willing to grant Spock the same freedom he wished for himself, but Spock wasn't as sexually needy, and furthermore was shy with women. It wasn't as if that would be fair. Jim wished above all to be fair, to do right by Spock, but how? It wasn't like Spock came with a manual. He was the first of his kind. They were flying blind.
Jim really disliked getting involved with women at this point. Not only couldn't he promise them anything but a good time, but he couldn't even square any of it with himself anymore. The most innocent contact, the lightest flirtations, left him feeling guilty. Poor Spock.
He also pitied the girls. Don't get mixed up with me, girls, I'm trouble. Can't you see trouble written all over me? He'd try to discourage them, but it was hard to do that without seeming impolite. Oh, what a mess. He didn't really want to discourage them. He still loved women. He didn't know if he would ever change. Something stubborn inside him didn't want to.
It was all pretty troubling, really.
But there was hope. Jim had discovered something very interesting about Spock's anomalous half-breed biology, quite by accident: If Spock experienced a strong emotion, specifically anger, it gave him a temporary kick in the caboose, sexually speaking. Spock could regain emotional control fairly quickly, but the chemicals that flooded his bloodstream after a fit of rage made sex more attractive and urgently exciting to him for a few hours. The first time it had happened Jim hadn't made the connection, but when it happened again, Jim recognized the pattern and inwardly rejoiced.
Actually, Jim had mixed feelings about this discovery of his. If only he could use that, control it, but how? He knew Spock hated to lose self control. It was deeply humiliating for him. Jim had enormous respect for Spock and didn't want to deliberately make him unhappy. What a puzzler. Jim was stumped.
He finally decided to talk to Spock about S/M. He had really not wanted to bring it up, because it was kind of embarrassing, but after thinking things through for a while it finally seemed to be at least part of the answer. He knew it wasn't the whole answer, but he could do no more on his own. He needed Spock's input.
Jim tried to choose his moment carefully. He waited until Spock seemed receptive, then spilled the beans about his little secret. Spock seemed interested and Jim dared to hope that Spock was even intrigued, but in the end it became obvious he had hoped for too much. Spock was not attracted to the idea, in fact, when he finally did react he seemed repelled. Oh, no, this was not good.
Jim acted quickly to do what he could to minimize the damage. He dropped the subject completely. Thank God, this seemed to be enough. They were right side up and back to normal in no time. But that meant he still had his problem, and was no nearer to a solution.
Then one day, everything changed. While en route to Benecia, out of the blue, Spock surprised Jim with something that was nothing short of a miracle.
Spock returned from his luncheon with his jaw set in an attitude of determined resolve. Instead of returning directly to his station, he stopped beside the Captain's chair and caught Kirk's attention with a provocative glare.
Startled, Jim asked, "Yes, Mr. Spock?"
"Captain, I must speak with you privately at once." Spock stated in tones so portentous that it gave Jim chills.
Jim frowned. This must be something very serious! "Certainly! Mr. Sulu, please take the conn!"
Jim strode to the lift, sensing that Spock was close on his heels. Once enclosed within the lift, Spock quickly requested deck five. Jim held a handle and, puzzled, tried to catch Spock's eye.
"I think it best that we discuss it in your quarters." Spock explained.
"All right..." Jim agreed. Why not?
Once alone in Jim's cabin, Spock assumed complete command of the situation.
"Jim, this is personal. See to it that we will not be disturbed for an hour."
"All right, Spock" Jim punched the intercom switch. "Uhura, I'm in my quarters with Mr. Spock and wish to remain undisturbed for one hour."
"Aye aye, Captain." Uhura softly confirmed.
Jim locked his door and faced Spock, who was standing in the center of the room perfectly straight, seeming centered and utterly calm.
"What's this about, Spock?"
"I will ask the questions, James, and you will answer. But first I have a statement I've prepared, and I insist you remain silent for now and hear me well. Remember my words, for I shall not repeat them."
Spock's retort caused Jim's heart to contract and his eyes filled with wonder. His lips parted as he began to ask why, but he remembered Spock's request and remained silent.
Sensing he now had Jim's rapt attention, Spock continued.
"Until now our association has been an easy and pleasant one, for you. For me, it has not been easy and pleasant. This will now change. Effective immediately, you are no longer to think of yourself as free, nor to behave as if you are free. You are not free. You belong to me, and I intend to do what is necessary from this moment forward to firmly convince you of this fact."
An icy thrill rushed through Jim's veins and whether from horror or delight he couldn't tell. His heart began hammering noisily in his chest.
From where Spock was standing several feet away he could see the heat waves beginning to rise from his lover. Jim's eyes were serious, but he broke a small, crooked smile. Very good.
"Give me the kit you showed me...your toy bag."
Jim's heart leapt like a Spring lamb. Hot dog! He rushed to comply. He crossed the room in four long steps and dropped to one knee near his bed, by Spock's feet. He opened the drawer and brought forth the canvas bag. He half turned, still down on one knee, and offered it up to Spock with a theatrical degree of solemnity.
Is he mocking me? Spock wondered, but immediately understood that Jim, in his playful way, was just giving the moment its due.
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