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Story Notes:

No-Reform Vulcan AU Sarek/Kirk with indications of future K/S, and off-screen Sarek/Amanda.

"Kafeh" is the Vulcan word for Slave.

Author's Chapter Notes:

Illustration for Chapter One: http://princessofswords.com/page1/files/Kafehpencilssmall.html


 Sated from his evening meal, Sarek entered his private chambers. He was pleased to find that his orders had been followed. At the foot of his immense bed there was a small couch; curled upon it was the new human slave he had acquired at the markets this morning.

It was difficult to believe that this was the same being that his men had dragged onto his estate. The human had fought like a wild animal, shouting in his blunt language and lashing out with his fists and feet and teeth. He had been bathed, perfumed and dressed. The pale, melon green tunic was a lovely contrast to the rose-gold tone of his skin. A very long, golden chain at his neck shackled him to a post of Sarek’s bed.

The slave glared warily at Sarek with warning, Don’t come near me. From his actions this morning it was obvious to anybody that this human was new to a bound life. Sarek had bought the human with the intention of gifting him to his own son, who he knew would be home in less than a week. It was precisely the reason Sarek had had the slave prepared to spend the evening with him. He intended to show this slave the proper conduct of his new station. The human could be dangerous in his anxious state, and Sarek would not risk his only son being harmed. Also, for baser reasons: he was the Lord of this House and could do as he pleased; he was curious about a human male’s responses.

Gracing him with only a passing glance, he strode past the human to disappear behind a changing screen. He shed the layers of his formal garments and donned a comfortable, but elaborately decorated robe. He returned to the bed, and their gazes were locked on each other as Sarek trailed his fingers over the golden links of the chain, he moved to grasp it and kept his fist clenched on the length two feet away from the human’s neck.

“I am Sarek, the Father of this clan,” he said in barely accented Standard. 

The human all but sneered at the declaration.

“You will learn to show respect for myself and mine,” Sarek continued, “Now that you are a part of this House.” Sarek pulled on the chain, encouraging the human to rise and approach him, Much to his chagrin the human shot him a defiant glare and drew back, remaining firmly seated.

“Come here,” he insisted, making his request quite clear, pulling again he gave the human one last chance. Unthinkably, the slave seized the chain and yanked back against Sarek, but the higher gravity of the planet had rendered his human strength inadequate. His eyes widened when he saw the Sarek hadn’t budged in the least.

His face an impassive mask, but with his eyes burning, the Vulcan towed hand over hand on the links. The human scrambled to his feet to avoid landing on his knees. He straightened, feebly attempting to resist and cling to any shred of pride he had left, chained and costumed in this alien bedchamber. When he was face to face with the towering creature, he averted his gaze, teeth bared. Sarek seized a handful of the human’s short, thick hair, in a grip he ensured would be painful. The slave cried out, but kept his neck craned away.

“I would see your eyes,” Sarek demanded, tightening his hold in the honey hair. The human gasped, and turned frustrated, fearful eyes on the Vulcan. Sarek decided the glittering orbs were the same color of a fine liquor he favored. He had made a very fortune find indeed. This slave was undeniably beautiful, but now to test his temperament. There was no honor in having a completely broken slave. But there was also none for the master who failed to train his slave to accurately concede to his wishes.

“I have not even seen a human since my favorite, an Earth woman, was brought here many years ago. She too, has bronzed hair and a lovely mouth. I’ve never had the privilege of having a human male. I intend to take my pleasure thoroughly . . . how you survive the experience is entirely up to your manners.”

As he spoke he kept his fingers gripped in the long hairs of the human’s head. His free hand touched the pink, blushing cheeks, feeling the slide of his fingertips against the sweating flesh. He explored the tawny crescent eyebrows, the generous lips, and the taut curve of his neck.

“Alright . . .” the low voice rumbled against sensitive Vulcan fingertips. “I’ll do as you say.”

Sarek’s hand traveled down to the tie of the tunic, loosed it, and then divested the now trembling creature of the flimsy garment. It pooled at his feet in a soft pile.

“What is your name, slave?”

Sarek caressed the broad shoulders, marveling at the bare, hairless chest. He pinched and rolled the mauve nipples, deciding they were not quite as sensitive as the female of the species.

“Kirk!” the human exclaimed at the attentions, “James Kirk . . .”

Sarek buried his nose into the crux of Kirk’s neck, breathing deeply that red, masculine scent, strong beneath the fragrance of the bath salts and plant oils he had been anointed with.

“A pleasing name,” Sarek admitted, “I will suggest to my son that you keep it.”

 He deliberately pushed his body against Kirk’s to knock the human off his balance, causing him to tilt, clutching at Sarek’s shoulders. Sarek seized the man about his waist, and leaned in to experimentally lap at the moist skin of Kirk’s throat. Feeling the slave squirm at the pebbled texture of his tongue, Sarek decided he enjoyed teasing him. Nosing the fragile rounded ear he took the cool lobe between his teeth and nipped sharply. A sigh escaped the pink lips, and Sarek felt the human organ grow half-hard against his thigh.

It reminded him that he had yet to witness the exotic member. He pulled back and observed the flushed purple-rose head, the blue-veined shaft, and the fully descended testicles. Sarek noted the presence of only a single ridge at the crown of the glans. He felt Kirk watching him, letting his eyes travel up the thick torso, he asked, “Have you ever been had by a male, James Kirk?”

Sarek heard the human swallow. “It’s been . . . over a year,” he admitted.

He cupped Kirk’s face, meeting his gaze he instructed, “Get on the bed, and stay on your hands and knees.”

He felt fear, and denial radiate from the being, he feared he would have to get rough with Kirk again, but the human lowered his eyes, crawled onto the plush bedclothes and acquiesced to the instructions. Satisfied, Sarek took a moment to drink in the view of the muscled buttocks. He loosened his robe and moved to the right side of the bed, to a short, square chest of drawers painted in black lacquer. Kirk watched him slide open the top drawer.

Sarek extracted an object off a slim cushion of red velvet. It was an elaborately carved Vulcan phallus, formed from a soft, mint-colored gemstone, with delicate veins of white marbled through it. Kirk gaped, and unconsciously began to lower his hips. Sarek reached over the bed and gave him a sharp slap to his buttocks.

“My instructions were for you to stay on your knees.”

The human flinched, and straightened his thighs again; head bent low and body shivering. Sarek plucked a delicate crystal bottle filled with oil from the top of the chest. He crossed the room to the small fire pit and placed the gem phallus and the vial on the decorated stone edge, to warm them. He turned back to the crouching man, who was regarding him over his shoulder, at the objects by the fire. Sarek untied his robe, and pulled the sash free from his waist.

When he reached the bed he ordered, “Lower your shoulders, and keep your hips in the air.” Kirk complied and Sarek moved to his left side. “Spread your legs.” Sarek gripped his upper bicep, pulling it closer to his bent knee. He looped the robe lash around Kirk’s inner limbs, tying him so his elbow was against his knee, so he was trapped in the incredibly vulnerable position.

 It was exactly what Sarek was after. Kirk struggled to get as comfortable as he could in the pose, and he felt the large hands on his upturned ass. Sarek parted the cheeks, continuing his exploration of this attractive human male. The entrance to his body was clenched shut, his thighs straining to remain apart when Kirk desperately wanted to pull them together. Sarek ran his thumb down the crevice, exerting no extra pressure yet, merely wanting to feel the textures of the delicate orifice, the mound of the taint, and the hanging sacs.

Kirk whimpered at the touch, his erection still only at half-mast, but not deflating in the least. The human writhed, and gasped aloud when Sarek placed his damp, sandpapery tongue into the entrance of his body. The Vulcan pushed and rolled the muscle deeper inside, sampling the foreign tastes and scents while slicking the hole as best he could with his minimal saliva. His goal was to relax the human enough so when the eventual penetrations came, he would not be hurt or damaged in his apprehension.

While he continued with his lips and tongue he used his other hand to glide and sooth over the trembling body, feeling the shivering stop and the human’s form melting to the attentions, even pushing back slightly into the questing tongue. Sarek decided enough consideration had been given and he left Kirk’s side again to retrieve the gem phallus and amber oil from the fireside.

He stretched out on the bed to Kirk’s right side. The human craned his head to look at Sarek as he placed the phallus by Kirk’s free hand. Dripping oil onto his fingers he instructed, “Lick it. Wet it with your mouth, James Kirk. And keep your legs spread wide.”

Kirk licked his lips, trying to summon enough saliva in his fear-dry mouth. The Human realized he had yet to see Sarek’s cock, and as he contemplated the toy he wondered how much of its construction was exaggeration. It was at least twelve inches long. There was a wide inch-thick ring about seven inches down with bumps texturing the last four, presumably to keep a grip on the handle if things became too frantic. The head looked not too unsimilar to his own: more conical than blunt in it’s shape, with two elegant ridges flaring wide. Kirk realized Sarek was regarding him with a severe look, impatient at his delay.

Kirk touched the glossy stone, amazed at how alive it felt, having been heated by the fire. Sarek breath quickened at the sight of the wet pink tongue leaving the sanctuary of the mouth and caressing the ridges of the phallus’ head. Kirk soon had the whole glans between his lips, swirling his tongue as he pushed and pulled the shaft deeper into his mouth. His eyes slid shut, and he could hear the older Vulcan’s heavy, aroused breathing. As he continuously worked with his mouth he felt the weight on the bed shift, and then the slippery pressure of Sarek’s oil-slicked fingers worrying at his hole. He fought the urge to clench up, desperate to remain in this mellow haze, to keep Sarek pleased and get the encounter over with as little trouble as possible.

Moaning around the phallus he twisted his hips into the fingers, pushing them deeper inside him. “Good, very good . . .” he heard Sarek’s lust-thickened voice rasp, and the Vulcan rewarded him with a burning kiss on his shoulder. Soon the two of them found a rhythm, Sarek thrusting one, then two digits to their hilts at the same pace Kirk suckled at the stone. After what seemed like endless moments of the steady pace, Sarek gently removed his fingers. Kirk opened his eyes to see Sarek wiping the oil clean from his hand, and then moving to take the dripping phallus from the human’s mouth. He gripped it by the pebbly handle.

Prickly sweat broke out over Kirk’s back, forcing his body to be passive and open. Sarek had not been unkind; he had taken great care to prepare him. Kirk couldn’t stop the short cry he emitted when the head was pushed too easily into his canal.

Sarek stopped and let Kirk’s body adjust, but only for a short moment and continued to urge the stone deeper into the slave. Another three inches were swallowed by Kirk’s orifice with an accompanying shout. Sarek then slowly pulled back, so only the ridged head remained inside, then he slid the phallus back in, deeper than before, so that more than half was buried inside the quivering form. The human clenched his teeth, and whimpered at the increasing fullness within him.

It seemed impossible, but Kirk finally felt the widest part of the gem cock pressed against his ass, buried in his body to the hilt. He dryly sobbed as Sarek’s hand began to move, bobbing the phallus in and out of his body. It teetered him off the balance of pleasure and pain into the realm of fierce arousal. Kirk remembered the sensations he had felt when he had been a willing participant in acts like this, and he couldn’t stop from bending his spine inward like a bow, spreading his legs wider and pushing back.

Suddenly Kirk cried out, his cock springing to full length, and weeping a milky tear when Sarek angled the toy in such a way that drove into his prostate. He heard Sarek gasp in genuine revelation and then press mercilessly in short, slow thrusts against the spot that made Kirk writhe and moan uncontrollably.

            “Fascinating,” Sarek breathlessly marveled, “both sexes have internal points of sexual stimulation.”

            “Oh gods . . .Ahh! Ah!” Kirk panted and, without having his cock touched once during the entire encounter, jet after jet of pearly come shot from him to land on his stomach, his chest and the blankets beneath him while he pumped his hips hard into the phallus.

            He wanted to jump up from the bed, he wanted to fall asleep, he wanted a drink of water, he wanted to roll on his back . . . anything but this balled up position with the sticky evidence of his excitement dripping down his torso.

            “Beautiful,” he heard Sarek appraise. The Vulcan reached underneath Kirk’s body to squeeze at the softening crown, milking a few droplets onto his fingers, which he brought to his lips to taste. Kirk fairly liquefied with relief when Sarek released the sash from his arm and leg, unfolding himself on his belly, not caring that he was laying directly on the cooling puddle he had created.

            His liberation was entirely too short-lived, as Sarek flipped him onto his back and moved to kneel between his legs. His wrists were captured in a firm grip and pulled over his head. Sarek took the sash and bound the human’s hands to the headboard. To languid to feel any real indignation, Kirk sought out Sarek’s eyes, but halted at the sight of Sarek’s open robe, and the hard body exposed to him.

            Kirk knew that the average Vulcan life span was over two hundred years. Kirk had heard somewhere in his travels to this estate that Sarek was over one hundred, but he wasn’t sure what he believed as he gaped at the iron hair curling over hills and plains of solid muscle. The fleece traveled across the expanse of his chest, trailing down a knotted stomach right to the large erection at the juncture of his gray-dusted thighs.

            From the angle on his back Kirk noted the differences from the gem phallus and the flesh and (green!) blood one before him. It was almost as long as the insertable length of the false prick. The tapered head and flaring twin ridges were present, but the shaft was as smooth as his own. The color shocked him; the double-ribbed head was a deep mossy green, with the tint fading to a warm jade further down the straining cock. There was also a clear substance that seeped like honey from the verdant slit, and Kirk concluded Vulcan males generated their own lubrication. The shocking shade of the prick made Kirk become conscious of the greenish tinge of Sarek’s nipples, his parted lips, and the lustful blush on his cheeks.

            Bound, aroused beyond his understanding, and knowing to protest would be fruitless, Kirk only gave a whimper as Sarek parted Kirk’s legs over his shoulders. His cock dripping, he pushed his way easily into lax human body.  When he was fully buried he began to move in a steady, alien undulation, thrusting with all the single mindedness of an animal. He leaned forward, bending Kirk double as he plundered him to the hilt, forcing short grunts from Kirk with each deep push.

            Bracing one hand on the bed, Sarek momentarily pressed the fingers of the other against the human’s temple. Kirk was flooded with an overwhelming lust for this man and his heavy cock filling him. He was too weakened and wanton to care where the thoughts had originated as he tightened the grip of his legs on Sarek’s shoulders, pushing back onto the seeking cock, while his own was filling and aching once again. It smacked against his belly, ignored.

            The Vulcan’s stamina seemed infinite as he maneuvered Kirk into several positions. They both ended up on their sides, belly to back as Sarek gripped his hip and licked at the shell-like ear.

At long last, Sarek’s steady pace turned frantic, shoving as much of his burning length into the human as possible. Kirk threw his head back into the pillows, groaning, pleasure setting fire to his sore muscles. Sarek’s only sound was a low snarl, and Kirk silently praised the hot flood filling his bowels, signifying the Vulcan’s release. It spilled from him as Sarek pushed him onto his back, and pulled out to spurt the last scalding jets onto Kirk’s swollen cock.

Kirk panted, fighting to catch his breath in the thin air, and regain his sense of self, chasing away the deposited feelings of lust and craving.

But, his mind went white-hot as he felt Sarek’s coarse tongue explore the length of his prick, lapping at his urethral opening. He moaned aloud when he was engulfed in a small tight world of heat, and moisture and texture. Sarek moved in a maddeningly erratic pattern, dipping his fingers in the spilled semen to fondle Kirk’s balls as he suckled. If he had the strength Kirk would have dug his heels into the sheets and thrust into the molten mouth. But all he could do was keen at the sensations radiating between his legs.

He finally emptied himself down Sarek’s throat when the Vulcan sent probing fingers into his body, and stimulated his prostate into shuddering orgasm once again. Sarek drank down the entire bitter brew, lapping every drop clean from the softening organ.

He sat back on his legs. The human had shown satisfying response and endurance, as Sarek had deliberately tried to exhaust him to test his limits. He also showed intelligence at deciding to concede to Sarek’s authority early in the encounter. He was not so the mindless barbarian he had played at when first brought to the House. Sarek would inform Spock favorably of his new slave’s performance.

Sarek rose and padded to the shallow basin of water behind his changing screen. There he soaked and wrung out a small towel and brought it back to the prone man. Sarek was thorough as he bathed away both their dried leavings, and turned the human’s hips over to clean the away the oil and semen. Kirk very still through the whole process. Sarek went back to the basin, in turn washing and drying himself.

Knowing human penchants for regular fluids, he brought a goblet over to the tap and filled it with cool, clear water. Kirk was in the same position he left him in. He released his hands, letting the human curl onto his side, drawing his legs over his depleted genitals. Sarek sat on the edge of the bed. “Drink,” he offered the goblet.

Kirk looked up at him with hard, but questioning eyes. “Have I acted deceptively towards you, James Kirk? You are in need of replenishment. You will drink.”

Kirk struggled upright, wincing at the pressure put on his backside to sit. He took the offered cup and drank greedily, its contents exhausted in four large gulps. Running the back of his hand over a spilled drip on his chin, he handed the cup back and muttered something soft, but not so low that Sarek did not pick it up. “More . . . please.”

Sarek returned in short time with another brimming drink, and Kirk imbibed slowly this time. As he did, Sarek ran his fingers delicately through his flaxen hair as though he were caressing a pet, feeling the thicker texture of it compared to a Vulcan’s.

“Our House is a fair one, James Kirk, if you are willing and obedient you will find that your life can be privileged.”

Kirk drained the goblet and stared into Sarek’s eyes, waiting for more. “Within a week you will be handed over to my son, he will continue in your tempering. Spock is your unquestionable master, and any unwillingness will be met with severe punishment.”

Kirk cast his gaze downward, “I understand.”

Without another word on the subject, Sarek took the goblet from the human and made quick work of straightening the room: removing the soiled top blanket from the bed, placing Kirk’s disgarded tunic on the couch, and turning off all the lamps, save for the small firepit. Kirk remained on the bed, watching the Vulcan intently, as he had for all of Sarek’s actions tonight.

The old Vulcan told himself that must remember to warn his son that this slave was clever. He did not think the human was deceiving or vicious, only quick-thinking and, as loathe as he was to admit it: quite logical. Deciding that his best course of action was to play the compliant servant until such a time that he could possibly escape. Sarek chose not to be concerned any more than he had too, he had made his decision about the beautiful slave, and eventually it would be up to Spock to condition him.

 Sarek turned back the sheets and slid into his bed. He lay on his side, and pulled on Kirk, urging him to do the same. The human acquiesced silently, but couldn’t contain a soft gasp when Sarek draped an arm over his thigh and laid the big hand on his genitals.

It didn’t feel like a sexual act, merely a curious, possessive groping. As he was palmed and stroked Kirk felt the weight of the whole ordeal drain him. Kirk thought it impossible that he would be able to sleep in such a place. But he felt the push of Sarek’s chest, the surprisingly calming sound of the Vulcan’s deep breathing. And the heated hand felt so soothing as Sarek worked with his palm and fingers in an unhurried, writhing massage.

Kirk slipped into darkness, too exhausted to even dream, or think about what tomorrow would bring.

Chapter End Notes:

Story©2010 Princess of Swords

All things Trek belong to Roddenberry

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