Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of Paramount/Viacom. This story is the property of and is copyright (c) 1977 by Johanna Cantor. Originally published in Obsc'Zine #2, edited by Lori Chapek-Carleton. Rated R.
by Johanna Cantor
"Oh, Pav!" The
Guest-Named-Martha's eyes shone with admiration. (And the Guest-Named-PavChekov,
Sayana noted, was drinking in every bit of it. There were, indeed, many ways these
guests were like the people of
The Guest-Named-Pav blushed. "It's just
to reassure the people of
"A party of agriculturalists!" the woman replied scornfully. "But he put you in charge of liaison. And I think it's just splendid." Now the guests touched mouths again, holding each other close. From the bushes, Sayana and Makora watched intently. "Just keep on the way you're going," the Headguest had told them. Cautiously, they crept closer.
"Oh Martha," Pav sighed. He reached to her waist, and undid the bright dress. Then, to their astonishment, he peeled her legs. Badly shaken, the couple waited for her scream. But she only giggled, and sat down, kicking off her boots.
"It must be something she wears," Makora concluded solemnly. His gaze was riveted to the woman guest, his eyes round and big. Sayana tugged at his elbow.
"They do not know we are here," she reminded him.
"We are not harming them," he replied absently. "Look, Sayana! She has hair where her legs meet!"
"Of course she does," Sayana replied impatiently. She was craning her neck to see. The Guest-Named-Pav was kneeling beside the woman, loosening her blond hair. It fell around her shoulders.
"Martha, oh Martha," he breathed. He twisted his fingers in the shining hair, and the guests touched mouths again. Now Sayana could see that the woman was stroking the man's back. She brought her fingers slowly down, around, and to the front of his legs. He grunted, and squirmed. She laughed, then drew his clothing down around his knees.
"Wow!" she said, and laughed.
Sayana crept forward. She couldn't quite see… Makora grabbed her, and pulled her back. "Makora!" she whispered urgently. "Do you have that -- that – there?"
"Of course." She gazed at him in astonishment.
"Oh Martha," Pav sighed again. Quickly, Sayana turned back to watch, and stifled a gasp. The man was naked now, and the strange limb stood straight out from his legs. "Martha." Sayana could hardly hear him. He pulled Martha closer, burying his mouth in her hair.
"Now. I can't--"
"Well, well." Her tone told Sayana she was teasing him.
"Martha!" he pleaded.
Martha studied him for a moment. "All right," she said gently. "Your turn." She drew her fingers down his belly, then took the erect limb in her hand. The man shivered, but held himself still as she bent and took it in her mouth. It made him gasp, and Sayana saw his hands clench.
Beside her, Makora grunted, but Sayana did not turn. For the woman lay back, placing her feet on the ground, and raised her hips. The man knelt in front of her, then suddenly he was on top of her. The woman pushed her hips down hard, and the man moaned, beginning to pump. The woman thrust, matching his rhythm, meeting him as he pushed inside her with long, deep strokes. He sighed happily, kissing her face and throat.
The couple in the bushes rose, sensing that the couple in the grass would not notice them. Sayana watched, almost beside herself with curiosity. The man was straining, moving faster and faster. Martha still moved with him, but her face was untroubled, almost indulgent. She stroked his back and fondled him like a pet. Occasionally, she kissed him.
Makora's hand closed on Sayana's wrist, but she hardly noticed. The man was thrusting desperately now, moaning like a person in pain. Then quite suddenly he stopped, and gave a long sigh. The tension had left his body, and he lay quietly on the woman's breast. "Martha," he breathed. "Oh, Martha, you are so kind to me."
Martha smiled and kissed him again. She let him rest for another moment. Then she took his hand and guided it down her body. "My turn," she said.
"Yes," the man agreed tenderly. His hand disappeared between their bodies and his mouth covered one breast. "Martha sighed, closing her eyes. Sayana watched carefully. But Makora tugged at her arm.
"Sayana!" he whispered sharply. "Sayana, come." Sayana wanted to stay, but he pulled her so hard that she had to go willingly in order to move quietly. Soon she was running as fast as she could, but he still pulled her through the trees.
"Makora!" she gasped. "Stop!"
Makora stopped so abruptly that she almost
crashed into him. She pulled back automatically but his arms were around her. "Sayana,"
he whispered. "Sayana." His lips were on hers
again. It was the touching, but
"Makora !" She sprang back in alarm. Makora hung his head, still panting from the run, and more. The front of his sarong stood straight out. "Makora!"
"Sayana. Would--" he choked. But then he moved toward her, beseechingly. Sayana shrank back. But he only touched her shoulder, pleading silently, but waiting for her reaction. Sayana studied his face, concerned. He seemed almost in pain. It disturbed her to see him in need. If he could be at peace--
"All right," she said shyly.
He relaxed a little. "They found it pleasurable, Sayana. And we are like them."
"That is true," she agreed. "Let us do what they did."
They kissed again. Sayana still felt shy. But
strange, pleasant feelings were stirring in her body. Perhaps this was why
Martha had smiled. When Makora hesitated, she loosened her halter.
Soon he whispered her name again. Now it was her turn. She fumbled for his strap, then his sarong joined hers at their feet. She ran her fingers down his belly, and then she had his flesh in her hand.
That limb was fascinating! It was smooth and hard, yet she could feel no bone. Inquisitively, she ran her hand down, and found a soft bag with hard balls that moved intriguingly. A shudder ran through him. "Sayana!" he demanded.
Sayana sank down on the grass, kicking her skirt free. Then, remembering, she reached to take the limb in her mouth. Her mouth was dry, and it felt strange. Letting him go, she lay back and raised her hips. The hard head touched between the folds of her body, and she smiled as Martha had. He moved against her. It was pleasant.
Makora was moving faster. But a sob broke from him and the hard flesh fumbled at her body. Understanding, Sayana raised her hips again. "There is an opening," she told him.
"Here." He probed where her fingers guided him. Then he thrust.
Sayana felt a tearing pain so sudden that she almost screamed. She tried to push him away. But Makora held her, trapping her -- forcing her. He gave a grunt of satisfaaction and began to thrust deeper. "Move," he said urgently. "Move."
Sayana shook her head silently in the dark. He hurt! And the movements were getting more and more violent. Somehow she knew he would not -- maybe could not -- stop. Tears ran down her face, but he thrust on, unheeding. His hands clutched at her shoulders, his nails digging into her. He moaned and gasped, but he would not stop. She felt a hot liquid inside her. Makora cried out and thrust deeper yet. But then, at last, he lay still.
Sayana wept silently in the dark. Makora was still on top of her and inside her, his flesh penetrating her sore body, and his weight crushing her into the earth. She felt him labor for breath, but she would not move. Sayana lay rigid. Martha had stroked Pav, but she could not bring herself to touch Makora. All she wanted was for him to get up, and let her go.
Makora took a deep breath and wiggled, sending his retreating flesh deeper again. Sayana almost cried out. Suddenly she hated him.
She did not answer.
"Get off me!" Her sobbing broke out uncontrollably. "Just get off me. Please!" Stunned, he withdrew and let her up. The moment she was free, Sayana was up and running. She fled almost blindly toward the lake, barely hearing Makora's shouts as he pounded after her. At the edge of the lake she dove in, swimming underwater to the small islands. She hid there, concealed by the vegetation, weeping silently. Makora shouted after her, then went in after her.
"I'm all right!" she called as he surfaced. "Just go away!"
He swam toward the sound of her voice, so she went underwater, coming up silently yards away. Makora was calling to her, but he would never find her in the dark. Finally he gave up and swam to the shore. She heard him climb out and start for the village. His slow footsteps died away. And Sayana covered her face, and wept.
It grew cold in the lake, but she stayed there until she was sure the village slept. Then she crept back, retrieved her clothes, and ran to the woman's hut, where she sat huddled by the dying fire until waking time.
Sayana dressed with the others, wishing for the first time in her life that her sarong covered her entire body. She stayed close to the women all day. At any other time, her subdued air would have led to concerned questions. But today the "agriculturalists" had come, as the Headguest had promised. Everything they said was new and fascinating. Sayana almost forgot her grief in the absorption of learning what they taught.
Makora stayed close to the women too, always trying to catch her eye. She eluded him; she wanted nothing more to do with men.
But by the evening of the second day of the
teaching, Sayana realized that she was feeling lonely. She had grown up with
Makora in the dim time. Since the coming of
Sayana started violently.
"Sayana!" A bush was rustling; she moved toward it.
"Makora!" she giggled. "What are you doing in there?"
"Sayana, I wish to talk with you." She hesitated. "I swear I will not touch you. Please come with me."
"All right." They walked through the forest, self-conscious and stiff. Sayana studied her companion. He was almost marching, erect and rigid. He looked miserable. Timidly, she reached for his elbow. He started at her touch, then halted abruptly.
"Sayana!" He spoke with unusual rapidity. "Sayana, did I hurt you? I never meant to. I am sorry."
She smiled at him. "I know you didn't mean to, Makora."
"When I was -- when it-- I wanted--" He floundered into silence. Sayana studied him doubtfully. He met her look, then flushed scarlet. "I never meant to hurt you!" he insisted again.
But Sayana spoke bitterly. "You want to do it again."
"That is true," he admitted. "But I will not. I swear to you. I will never touch you. I only want you to be my friend again. To talk as we used to talk, and go with me when I fetch water. To be as we were before."
"No." Sayana turned away, weeping. "It can never be as it was before."
"Sayana, couldn't you forgive me?"
She shook her head, closing her eyes closing her eyes against the welling tears. "It is not that, Makora. It is that you want to do it again. That is why it cannot be as it was."
Makora turned away, pounding a tree in anger and humiliation. "Why did it hurt you?" he demanded. "I did not know it would hurt you. It did not hurt the guest!"
"I must not be like her," Sayana faltered.
"No. No, that cannot be true. We are like them. I am like the man. You are like the woman. Sayana! There must be a reason why it does not hurt her. Perhaps she would teach you!"
"Oh!" Sayana had not thought of that. "If she would teach me, then I could be kind to you, and--"
"Oh, Sayana, go to her. Go to her and ask her to teach you."
Sayana was already running back to the village. She went directly to the guesthut, breathless, but hopeful. Then her face fell. She could hear voices. They were all there, "briefing." Nevertheless, she gathered her courage, and stepped inside. They stopped talking.
"Why hello, Sayana," the brown Headguest said. "Come in."
Sayana reverenced. "Please, may I speak to the Guest-Named-Martha?''
The brown Headguest hesitated, but Martha was already moving toward her. "All right, Yeoman," he said. "Stay within earshot."
"Yes, Mr. Taki," she replied. She took the hand Sayana held out to her, and allowed Sayana to drew her outside.
"Welcomed guest," Sayana began. Then she stopped in confusion. How could she explain?
"What is it, Sayana?"
"It is Makora. He is very unhappy."
"Oh, I'm :sorry. Why?"
"Well, he wants me to be kind to him. But it hurts me."
"To be kind? Oh. I think I understand. Tell me about it. Did you, try?"
"Yes. I let him inside me. But it hurt! And he pushed me so, and it hurt me so, and now he wants to do it again! But I can't! I can't! I can't!"
"You poor child," Martha said gently. "Was it the first time?"
"And you don't know how, of course. Listen to me. Sayana, believe me, it can be wonderful. But the first time – you mustn't expect it to be wonderful right away. It takes time."
"But it hurts."
"No Wait." Martha took the talking
box from her belt and flipped it open. "
"Landon. The Dispensary, please."
"Dispensary." It was a man's voice. "Thomas here."
"David., this is Martha. Would you beam down a tube of Argelian, please?"
"One tube?" The man laughed. "An emergency, dear?"
"Not the kind you're leering about. Just comply, will you? These coordinates."
"Right you are, beautiful. I'll beam down the large size. And if you need any help using it up--"
Martha shut her box with a snap. Then she took Sayana's hand, led her a little away, and spoke earnestly. "Sayana, the reason it hurt was that you're new to it. Go to Makora. Let him kiss you. Have him touch you here, and here, and especially here. Find out what pleases you, and tell him what you like. Be patient while he learns. And whenever he's inside you, put some of this on his penis. That will keep him from hurting you. Here." She picked up the long tube that had appeared on the ground. "Take this and go to him. Trust him, and teach him to please you. And if you have any questions, come back to me. I promise you, it will soon be as nice for you as it is for him."
Sayana took the tube carefully. "Thank you," she whispered and sped off through the forest.
Makora was waiting where she had left him. He looked up anxiously, then smiled at her excitement. "Did she teach you?" he asked eagerly.
"Yes. She says it hurt because it was the first time. We should try again."
"Perhaps that is what the Headguest meant," Makora agreed.
"She says you are to touch me here, here, and here. And then when you want me to be kind to you, to put this on you."
"What is it?"
"I do not know. It comes from dispensary."
"Dispensary. More strange words. "Well--"
They faced each other, shy again. But Sayana could read the desire in Makora's face, and she knew without looking that his flesh was swelling, even though he stood motionless. She reached for his hand and guided it to her breast. He fondled her and undid her halter. His fingers tickled; Sayana giggled. Encouraged, he reached with his mouth. His tongue and lips felt good on her skin. She giggled again and loosened her waistband. "You're supposed to touch me here, too." She guided his fingers between her legs. That touch was especially pleasurable, and she moved her hips to encourage him. He gasped, but caught himself.
Sayana studied him "This is not pleasurable For you," she concluded dismally.
"It is pleasurable," he said hoarsely. "But it makes me want to move inside you again."
Sayana hesitated. She wanted him to go on touching her. But he wanted the moving. "All right."
"The tube." he reminded her.
"Yes." After some fumbling, she opened the tube. It held an ointment, sweet smelling, and intriguingly slippery. She rubbed it on her hand, then reached for Makora's sarong. It fell, and his flesh stood out. She stroked the ointment onto him. "Oooh!"
"Is it pleasurable?"
"Do it again." She complied. He grasped her shoulders, pushing his body hard against her. Sayana sank to the ground and opened herself. He knelt eagerly and pushed in. Then he stopped. "Does it hurt?"
He lay down and pushed. "Does that hurt?" His voice-was hoarse in her ear. But he had made himself stop and that realization was as warm in her mind as his body was inside hers. Sayana smiled as Martha had. Then she pushed down, hard.
Makora cried out. Then he began the moving. He thrust hard and fast. But this time his flesh slid against her flesh, pleasing her. She matched his movements, as Martha had done, and she sighed in pleasure. But before long his face changed and he moved almost frantically. She could no longer keep up with him. So she lay still, enjoying the feel of the motion. She caressed him, kissing him from time to time. His hands clutched at her, but she did not mind, for he had not hurt her before. He was moaning, and in pity, she pushed toward him, helping him go deeper. She whispered his name, encouraging him to release the warm fluid, and be at peace. Finally it happened, bathing her pleasurably. She cradled him, soothing him, and telling him to rest. It was pleasant to be kind to a dear companion, she thought, and she reached to kiss his forehead.
After that, she was kind to him -as often as their new tasks permitted. It pleased her to have him find peace in her body, and she reveled in his tender gratitude. He often touched her in the special places, kissing and fondling her. It made strange feelings run through her body, making her-want to be kind to him.
Sometimes, after he was at peace, Sayana wished he had not stopped. But Martha, discreetly consulted, only smiled. "Just keep on the way you are," she said. "It will get better."
The third evening, Sayana waited in their place with impatience. Already she wanted to be kind to him. When he appeared, she stepped at once into his embrace and pressed her body close. He fondled her appreciatively, and she abandoned herself to enjoyment.
But tonight he did not push her down. Sayana waited for the urgency. It showed in his face, but he did not try to begin the moving. "Makora, what is wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing is wrong," he assured her. "I talked with Pav today. Tonight, I am going to be kind to you."
Makora undressed her gently, caressing her body. Slowly he drew his fingers up her thighs, and she wriggled with pleasure. He kissed her breasts, still fondling her legs, and she drew his hand to touch the spot where the feelings were most intense. Warm moisture began to form inside her and she moved her hips to increase the pressure. Her body was tense; suddenly she felt like crying. She pressed close to him for comfort. Then she lay down and urged him to enter her.
He entered slowly, penetrating deeply, but not thrusting. At first Sayana enjoyed the new feeling. Then, suddenly; she wanted the moving. There was a bubble building inside her. Soon it would burst, and she wanted that more-than anything she had ever felt. She pushed at him, whimpering. It was happening -- soon -- soon. It happened to him and he released his fluid. But Sayana kept pushing. She could not bear him to stop -- not now. A sob broke from her.
Gently, Makora slid his hand between their bodies. She guided him, until his finger touched the center of the bubble. She sobbed again, and Makora kissed her. "Your turn," he assured her. She moved against him, faster and faster. The pressure increased and she moaned in desperation. In that moment, the bubble burst. Her body writhed and she cried out. But Makora was holding her tenderly, kissing and fondling her. She snuggled close, and reached for his hand again.
"What shall I do?" he asked.
Sayana giggled. "Just keep on the way you are," she said. He complied tenderly, and she moved against the pressure once more, until quite suddenly everything was all right.. She took his hand to make him stop rubbing and pulled it around her in a hug. "Makora," she said drowsily. "You are so kind…" He held her, smiling, as she drifted off to sleep.