Star Trek Discovery Fic: Vivat Regina
Apr. 26th, 2019 06:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat_lair***
Title: Vivat Regina
Author:kat_lair / Mistress Kat
Fandom: Star Trek Discovery
Pairing: Emperor Georgiou/Gabriel Lorca
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/enticements: Mirror Verse, extreme dub-con likely over the line to rape/non-con
Word count: 1,285
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing
Summary: In which Emperor Georgiou has better uses for a traitor than the agonizer booth.
Author notes: For H who enabled my Star Trek Discovery binge and asked something with the mirror verse Georgiou wearing a strap-on… I just can’t imagine her thinking about herself as ‘Philippa’ so I’ve stuck with honorific. Fic title is Latin for ‘long live the queen’.
“Take him to my chambers,” she said with a wave of her hand. “And have him… prepared.”
The understanding on Lorca’s face was a thing of beauty; rage mixed with humiliation and there, under all of that, helpless lust. The Emperor smiled. She so liked it when they begged for more rather than for their lives.
The dinner with her daughter added a twist, one that made the evening’s activities only more intriguing. If Michael was to be believed, the man waiting for her was someone entirely unprepared for the experience.
Much as she would’ve relished the opportunity to remind Lorca of their games, the chance to have another first time with him… Well, that was nothing to be wasted either.
She picked her outfit with care, opting for a harness of deep brown letter and buckles of polished brass. Choosing the right… accessory, took longer. Briefly, she toyed with the idea of making Lorca choose, but it would dilute the entrance and first impressions were important.
In the end she picked one, deep purple in colour and no thicker than an average human penis but far more symmetrical in shape, with even grooves and ridges. The other end pressed against her clit just so. She was already wet, and the shorter, curved end of the dildo slipped inside her with ease.
The imperial chambers were quiet, her slaves all withdrawn, guards firmly on the other side of the doors. Close enough to enter within seconds in the unlikely event she needed them, but nowhere near close enough to get even a glimpse of their ruler like this. It was a terrible privilege this, reserved for those bound for her in death, and not just in the way every citizen of the Terran Empire lived and died at her will, but in a concrete, hands-on, blood-slick way.
In the middle of her private reception room, Lorca was bolted to the floor. He was on all fours, thick metal circling his ankles, knees and wrists, larger hoops fitted over his chest and neck. His skin glistened with oil, legs held open by the angle of the restraints. There was nowhere for him to go but the man was still struggling, muscles straining and chest heaving from the effort. She had always liked that about him, the futile rage that never seemed to diminish. Looked like this Federation copy shared that at least.
He heard her enter the room, the soft click of the closing door making him still, like prey sensing the hawk circling above. The Emperor walked a slow loop around him, each step, each crack of her heels against the floor making her wetter. She hoped he could smell her.
Lorca’s gaze was stubbornly on the floor, not out of fear or humiliation, but as a vain act of defiance.
“Come now, Captain,” she said, trailing a fingertip over his cheek. The use of his rank was a taunt, one that hit the mark. “For all their weaknesses, I didn’t expect Federation officers to be so… shy.”
She clearly surprised him. Lorca’s head jerked up, his eyes wide and panicked just for a second. And oh, she liked that.
She liked that a lot.
“Your Michael Burnham couldn’t keep her act together even through one measly dinner,” she said. “I know all about your little… inter-universal dilemma.”
Lorca took a long, shuddering breath. It made the steel ring bite into his chest, the skin already marked from his earlier struggling. She watched his face as he took in her outfit, or the lack of it to be precise, gaze traveling over her body in a way that was mostly threat assessment but… not entirely. More fool him.
He saw the strap-on, understood, shuddered visibly in what could’ve been revulsion or lust or some toxic mixture of both. She didn’t much care.
“Then why am I here?” he asked finally. “If you know I’m not your Lorca… Why am I being punished for his crimes?”
The Emperor laughed. “Because someone needs to be. Because you are convenient. Because I will it so. Take your pick.” She patted his handsome face, almost gentle. Goddess, he really did look like him. Eerily so.
He growled in frustration, twisting in his bonds and calling her names, bare toes scraping against the floor tiles. She took the opportunity to circle him slowly again, to rub her palms over his flanks like trying to soothe a panicked horse. There were so many soft, vulnerable places in a human body that sometimes she wondered how they had emerged at the top of the galactic hierarchy at all, against races with physiology much better equipped for hard battle.
Then she looked into a mirror and wondered no more.
Her nails left angry, red welts over Lorca’s back. The Emperor drew a neat criss-cross pattern across his shoulder blades, another over the backs of his thighs, ghosting close enough to his testicles to make him flinch.
She chuckled and reached down to pinch Lorca’s nipples between her fingers, twisting until he cried out and then doing it even harder.
By the time she’d done a full circle, his body was an impressionist painting of blooming bruises, his cock hanging heavy and full between his legs. Oh he wanted this, despite himself.
“Open up,” she said, pressing his fingers to the hinge of his jaw until his teeth unclenched enough for her to push the phallus between them. She could’ve ordered him to be fitted with a spider gag, but then she would have missed out on the conversation. And he could bite all he wanted, it’s not like she was going to feel it.
The restraint around Lorca’s neck kept him still but it also made it impossible to angle his head exactly where she wanted it. She did her best though, grabbing a fistful of hair and tilting his face up until the metal band bit into his jugular hard enough to restrict breathing. Lorca struggled more, his cock grew harder.
She pushed all the way to the root on the first time, holding the position long enough for genuine fear flash in Lorca’s eyes before withdrawing. Then she did it again, and again, building up a brutal rhythm that soon had his eyes watering, tears rolling down his cheeks, mixing with the sweat on his face. Her clit swelled, cunt clenching rhythmically around the toy as she fucked the business end of the strap-on into Lorca’s unwilling mouth, saliva dripping from the corners of it in long strands.
She moaned at the sight, eyes slitted in pleasure and locked in Lorca’s, not wanting to miss the moment he broke, not that she expected it to happen so soon. No, it would take much, much longer than one session to achieve that.
His eyes were clear of fear now, nothing but anger in them, and desire dark enough to take her breath away.
The Emperor hissed between her teeth. She knew that look, had felt it burning into her for decades. The man choking on her cock was not some stranger wearing a familiar face. This one was hers.
The realisation pushed her over, the pleasure traveling through her in waves, her whole body bent over Lorca’s as she took what had always been hers to take.
“Gabriel,” she purred some long moments later as she pulled out of his bruised mouth, still shuddering from her orgasm. “There you are.”
Slowly, she straightened, pushing strands of hair off her face. “We’re going to have fun, you and I. It’ll be just like the old times,” she promised, smiling as she trailed her fingers over his back and walked behind him. “Maybe better.”
***
Title: Vivat Regina
Author:
kat_lair / Mistress KatFandom: Star Trek Discovery
Pairing: Emperor Georgiou/Gabriel Lorca
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/enticements: Mirror Verse, extreme dub-con likely over the line to rape/non-con
Word count: 1,285
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing
Summary: In which Emperor Georgiou has better uses for a traitor than the agonizer booth.
Author notes: For H who enabled my Star Trek Discovery binge and asked something with the mirror verse Georgiou wearing a strap-on… I just can’t imagine her thinking about herself as ‘Philippa’ so I’ve stuck with honorific. Fic title is Latin for ‘long live the queen’.
“Take him to my chambers,” she said with a wave of her hand. “And have him… prepared.”
The understanding on Lorca’s face was a thing of beauty; rage mixed with humiliation and there, under all of that, helpless lust. The Emperor smiled. She so liked it when they begged for more rather than for their lives.
The dinner with her daughter added a twist, one that made the evening’s activities only more intriguing. If Michael was to be believed, the man waiting for her was someone entirely unprepared for the experience.
Much as she would’ve relished the opportunity to remind Lorca of their games, the chance to have another first time with him… Well, that was nothing to be wasted either.
She picked her outfit with care, opting for a harness of deep brown letter and buckles of polished brass. Choosing the right… accessory, took longer. Briefly, she toyed with the idea of making Lorca choose, but it would dilute the entrance and first impressions were important.
In the end she picked one, deep purple in colour and no thicker than an average human penis but far more symmetrical in shape, with even grooves and ridges. The other end pressed against her clit just so. She was already wet, and the shorter, curved end of the dildo slipped inside her with ease.
The imperial chambers were quiet, her slaves all withdrawn, guards firmly on the other side of the doors. Close enough to enter within seconds in the unlikely event she needed them, but nowhere near close enough to get even a glimpse of their ruler like this. It was a terrible privilege this, reserved for those bound for her in death, and not just in the way every citizen of the Terran Empire lived and died at her will, but in a concrete, hands-on, blood-slick way.
In the middle of her private reception room, Lorca was bolted to the floor. He was on all fours, thick metal circling his ankles, knees and wrists, larger hoops fitted over his chest and neck. His skin glistened with oil, legs held open by the angle of the restraints. There was nowhere for him to go but the man was still struggling, muscles straining and chest heaving from the effort. She had always liked that about him, the futile rage that never seemed to diminish. Looked like this Federation copy shared that at least.
He heard her enter the room, the soft click of the closing door making him still, like prey sensing the hawk circling above. The Emperor walked a slow loop around him, each step, each crack of her heels against the floor making her wetter. She hoped he could smell her.
Lorca’s gaze was stubbornly on the floor, not out of fear or humiliation, but as a vain act of defiance.
“Come now, Captain,” she said, trailing a fingertip over his cheek. The use of his rank was a taunt, one that hit the mark. “For all their weaknesses, I didn’t expect Federation officers to be so… shy.”
She clearly surprised him. Lorca’s head jerked up, his eyes wide and panicked just for a second. And oh, she liked that.
She liked that a lot.
“Your Michael Burnham couldn’t keep her act together even through one measly dinner,” she said. “I know all about your little… inter-universal dilemma.”
Lorca took a long, shuddering breath. It made the steel ring bite into his chest, the skin already marked from his earlier struggling. She watched his face as he took in her outfit, or the lack of it to be precise, gaze traveling over her body in a way that was mostly threat assessment but… not entirely. More fool him.
He saw the strap-on, understood, shuddered visibly in what could’ve been revulsion or lust or some toxic mixture of both. She didn’t much care.
“Then why am I here?” he asked finally. “If you know I’m not your Lorca… Why am I being punished for his crimes?”
The Emperor laughed. “Because someone needs to be. Because you are convenient. Because I will it so. Take your pick.” She patted his handsome face, almost gentle. Goddess, he really did look like him. Eerily so.
He growled in frustration, twisting in his bonds and calling her names, bare toes scraping against the floor tiles. She took the opportunity to circle him slowly again, to rub her palms over his flanks like trying to soothe a panicked horse. There were so many soft, vulnerable places in a human body that sometimes she wondered how they had emerged at the top of the galactic hierarchy at all, against races with physiology much better equipped for hard battle.
Then she looked into a mirror and wondered no more.
Her nails left angry, red welts over Lorca’s back. The Emperor drew a neat criss-cross pattern across his shoulder blades, another over the backs of his thighs, ghosting close enough to his testicles to make him flinch.
She chuckled and reached down to pinch Lorca’s nipples between her fingers, twisting until he cried out and then doing it even harder.
By the time she’d done a full circle, his body was an impressionist painting of blooming bruises, his cock hanging heavy and full between his legs. Oh he wanted this, despite himself.
“Open up,” she said, pressing his fingers to the hinge of his jaw until his teeth unclenched enough for her to push the phallus between them. She could’ve ordered him to be fitted with a spider gag, but then she would have missed out on the conversation. And he could bite all he wanted, it’s not like she was going to feel it.
The restraint around Lorca’s neck kept him still but it also made it impossible to angle his head exactly where she wanted it. She did her best though, grabbing a fistful of hair and tilting his face up until the metal band bit into his jugular hard enough to restrict breathing. Lorca struggled more, his cock grew harder.
She pushed all the way to the root on the first time, holding the position long enough for genuine fear flash in Lorca’s eyes before withdrawing. Then she did it again, and again, building up a brutal rhythm that soon had his eyes watering, tears rolling down his cheeks, mixing with the sweat on his face. Her clit swelled, cunt clenching rhythmically around the toy as she fucked the business end of the strap-on into Lorca’s unwilling mouth, saliva dripping from the corners of it in long strands.
She moaned at the sight, eyes slitted in pleasure and locked in Lorca’s, not wanting to miss the moment he broke, not that she expected it to happen so soon. No, it would take much, much longer than one session to achieve that.
His eyes were clear of fear now, nothing but anger in them, and desire dark enough to take her breath away.
The Emperor hissed between her teeth. She knew that look, had felt it burning into her for decades. The man choking on her cock was not some stranger wearing a familiar face. This one was hers.
The realisation pushed her over, the pleasure traveling through her in waves, her whole body bent over Lorca’s as she took what had always been hers to take.
“Gabriel,” she purred some long moments later as she pulled out of his bruised mouth, still shuddering from her orgasm. “There you are.”
Slowly, she straightened, pushing strands of hair off her face. “We’re going to have fun, you and I. It’ll be just like the old times,” she promised, smiling as she trailed her fingers over his back and walked behind him. “Maybe better.”
***