The Shattering of the Mask 12
By Morticia

See part 1 for disclaimer
 

By 1700 Tom had completely scrubbed Chakotayís quarters from ceiling to floor, had retrieved clean sheets from the refresher to remake the bed with military precision and had retreated to the bathroom to prepare himself for Chakotayís return.

He had become so accustomed to giving himself an enema that the only thing that he registered as he performed the necessary ablutions was that his ass was thankfully free of pain for the first time in weeks. He had no illusion that the situation would remain pain free for long. Quite apart from the necessity to insert the huge butt plug as part of his usual preparations, he had a feeling that now Chakotay had overcome his reluctance to penetrate him, he was going to spend a fair amount of his future nights face down on the bed with Chakotay grunting on top of him.

The thought was not as horrific as it ought to be, he realised and kicked himself mentally for his continuing ambivalence towards his insane captor.

He hadnít even considered failing to prepare himself as usual for Chakotayís return. When the Commander arrived home he would find Tom submissively in position as always. Quite apart from the fact that this would prevent a violent punishment from the older man, Tom had decided that his continued obedience despite Chakotayís earlier Ďkindnessí would increase the illusion that he was voluntarily participating in Chakotayís Ďgameí.

When he had finally finished emptying his bowels and was sure of his inner cleanliness, Tom lifted one leg onto the toilet seat and taking a handful of lubricant he reached under his groin and began to loosen his sphincter. His muscles relaxed with the ease of practise and it only took a couple of minutes before he could begin easing the butt plug into himself.

He clenched his teeth against the pain as the thickest part of the plug stretched him to his limit and then slid home with a slurping sound.

He carefully moved into an upright position, his legs slightly spread to accommodate the thick invader, and began to bind his cock and balls with the leather straps that Chakotay had left him in place of a cock ring

Finally sure that he presented a pleasant vision, he moved slowly into the living room and took Ďpositioní opposite the door

1800 came and went as he knelt patiently for his Ďmasterísí return.

By 2300 he was cramping and shuffling in place with increasing agitation.His earlier confidence was disappearing rapidly as he tried to understand the reason for Chakotayís lateness.

Was this a punishment? Had Chakotay regretted his earlier acts of consideration and decided to punish him for them or was this a test to see whether he was truly obedient? On the other hand, what if something had happened to the Commander? How long would it be before someone remembered that he was still on board and came to rescue him?

His momentary hope splintered as he remembered that no one had bothered to rescue him before now. Maybe no one cared. Maybe everyone KNEW the Commander was holding him as a sexual slave but simply didnít give a damn. None of the Maquis cared, that much he knew without doubt and he was still uncertain whether the Captain was aware or not.

It made no sense that she was unaware, given that she had left him in the madmanís clutches and yet he still clung on to the thin thread of hope that she was as fooled by Chakotayís placid outward persona as he had previously been.

The opening of the door interrupted his reflections. He flinched against the sudden illumination as the lights came on full to reveal Chakotay and Ayala staggering in, arm in arm, obviously the worse for drink.

The pair made a cursory glance in his direction and then simply staggered to the overstuffed sofa and collapsed in grinning heaps as they continued their ribald discussion.

"So I told her that in my opinion she should keep on sleeping with Michael, whatever anyone said, if it made her happy." Chakotay smirked, tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks "and the silly cow was so grateful for my Ďunderstandingí that she practically creamed in her pants then and there."

"Well, I guess the advantage of a holographic lover is that you can just reprogram them to suit your requirements, whatever perversions they are." Ayala sniggered

"Oh, I donít know, Greg" Chakotay grinned "You can do that with flesh and blood people too." And he cocked his head in Tomís direction.

Tomís cheeks flamed but he stayed in position, his eyes lowered bashfully to the floor.

"Ah, but you canít ever be SURE, can you?" Ayala said slyly. He had seen Tom Ďin positioní many times but had always seen the rigidness of the Pilotís shoulders and sensed the indefatigable resentment that poured off the blonde. Admittedly tonight Tom seemed different, his posture was more relaxed and his eyes were no longer flashing that odd mix of fear and scorn, but Ayala had no doubt that the young manís spirit was only bowed, not broken.

Chakotay frowned in irritation at Ayalaís words. He gazed at Tom thoughtfully for a few moments and then snapped his fingers in decision.

"Simon, we have a guest, where the fuck are your manners?" He snarled.

Ayala glanced worriedly at his friend as Chakotay called Tom the name of his dead lover. Ayala worried for a moment that Chakotay had completely gone over the edge. But, then again, Chakotay could call Tom anything he liked, as long as he didnít actually believe it. He wondered how the pilot felt to be called Simon.

To his surprise Tom responded to the name and rose gracefully, padding submissively over to the couch and stopping in front of them.

"How may I serve you, Sir?" Tom asked humbly, his naked body quivering but his face serene.

"Get us some more beer, oh and some sandwiches." Chakotay purred with a satisfied smirk at Tom's obedience.

"Yes, Sir." Tom replied softly and hurried to comply. Ayala watched the end of the butt plug bobbing in the blondeís ass as he scurried to the replicator.

"I see the bruises have gone," he muttered thoughtfully, "So I guess he is being more co-operative in ALL ways."

Chakotay grinned happily.

"We have reached an understanding, I think." He confided to Ayala, with a touch of pride.

"Itís a nice ass when it isnít black and blue." Ayala mentioned casually. Chakotay wasnít fooled.

"Itís MY nice ass, Greg." he warned.

"Weíre friends, friends share." Ayala smirked unrepentantly.

Chakotayís eyes clouded with barely concealed fury. "Simon is MINE." He shouted loud enough to make Tom flinch at the replicator.

Ayala blinked in astonishment.

"Heís Tom Paris," he reminded Chakotay worriedly.

Chakotay looked at him for a long time and then smirked.

"I know who he is." He whispered quietly "But Iím enjoying this game. He thinks I am completely mad. Itís fascinating watching him try to manipulate my supposed Ďinsanityí."

"Thatís why you wanted Geron to talk to Tom." Ayala breathed in horrified admiration "You guessed he would tell the story of Simon to Tom."

"Exactly. Now Tom thinks I am completely mad and all he has to do is BE Simon and I will let down my guard."

"So why are you letting him do it?" Ayala whispered back

"Because I am benefiting from his spirit of co-operation. By the time he realises it is all a deception he will be far too enmeshed in the lifestyle to WANT to escape.He loves it, loves it all. He just is too damned stubborn to admit it. Shush, heís coming back." Chakotay warned

"So if you wonít share his ass, wonít you share his mouth?" Ayala said loudly to change the subject.

To his surprise Chakotay just laughed. "Itís a very talented mouth, isnít it, Simon?"

Hovering with his tray, Tom looked helplessly at Chakotay, biting his lips as he struggled to think of an appropriate reply.

"Yes Sir, if you say so, Sir." He finally muttered.

"Show him." Chakotay ordered with a cruel leer..

For a second Tom swayed with misery and then he carefully put the tray of drinks and snacks down and sank gracefully between Ayalaís legs and fumbled to release his cock from the restraining fabric of his pants.

For a second he traced nervous fingers over Ayalaís swollen member, his eyes meeting Chakotayís in misery, and then he opened his mouth and let Ayalaís cock slide smoothly into his throat.

Ayala leant back in his chair with a grunt of satisfaction as Tomís talented mouth bobbed up and down his cock, working magic with teeth and tongue.

Chakotay took a beer and chugged a mouthful thoughtfully as he watched Simon pleasuring his friend.

He didnít blame Ayala for doubting. Of course he thought that Simon was really the Tom Paris that he pretended to be.He wasnít stupid enough to think that anyone else would understand the special bond between him and Simon, the bond that had enabled his beloved to come back from the dead for him.

He even understood exactly HOW Simon had done it. He had checked the dates methodically. Simon had died on the very day that Tom Paris had crashed on Caldik Prime. Only he, Chakotay, understood that Tom hadnít survived the crash, that Simonís spirit had taken refuge in the body of Tom Paris and had therefore had been able to come back to him.

As for Simonís failure to recognise him when they met again, well, perhaps the experience of transferring bodies had affected his memory somehow, or perhaps it had all been an elaborate ruse to punish him. His favourite personal explaination was that Tom Parisís soul had refused to leave his body. That Simon had been trapped behind the pilotís cocky persona and it was only the years of abuse that had convinced Tom to leave and allowed Simon to remain.

Of course, he knew that would sound mad to anyone without his own spiritual beliefs, so he would continue to deny Simonís existence publicly. It was enough that he and his beloved were together again. Ayala and the rest could believe what they liked.

With a muffled scream, Ayala shot his load into Tomís mouth and collapsed back on the sofa, his chest heaving with the exertion of his orgasm.

"Shit! Chakotay, that was great! Thanks, buddy!" He gasped, totally ignoring Tom.

Tomís cheeks flared with renewed humiliation as he recognised that in Ayalaís eyes he was just a possession of Chakotayís and that his actions were merely taken as an extension of Chakotayís hospitality.

Understanding that, Tom simply handed Ayala a beer and then crawled back into position in front of Chakotay. To his relief, his Ďmasterí seemed uninterested in having the same service, so he relaxed back on his haunches and dozed quietly as the two men ate, drank and laughed for several more hours.

Eventually Ayala rose to leave and staggered drunkenly out of Chakotayís quarters. As he passed Tom he absently rubbed the blondeís hair as though petting a good dog.

Tom had to resist the insane urge to bite his ankles as he passed.

Chakotayís drunken brown eyes met his and a smile ghosted across the bronze face.

"Letís go to bed, Simon." He slurred happily.

Tom rose to his feet, shook his legs to relieve his pins and needles and then helped Chakotay to his feet. Chakotay slung an unsteady arm around his shoulders and they staggered to the bedroom. Almost crushed by Chakotayís dead weight, Tom helped the older man into bed and then hovered uncertainly, unsure whether he was to sleep in the bed or on the floor.

"Come here!" Chakotay mumbled, reaching an arm out commandingly and Tom slipped into bed next to the drunken commander.

Chakotay spooned up behind him, wrapped a heavy arm around his waist and immediately began to snore into his neck.

Tomís own exhaustion finally overcame the discomfort of the butt plug, which was being pressed deeper inside him by the pressure of Chakotayís hip against his ass, and he slept in Chakotayís arms.

His last thought as he drifted off was that he hoped the bastard remembered to remove the bloody thing before fucking him in the morning.

TBC