By Morticia


(Sequel to " Reprisals")


Rating: NC-17 ** Violence & Rape Warning **

Disclaimer: Tom, Chak et al belong to Paramount. I am only playing with them and promise to put them back relatively unscathed.

When he reached the pool table, Ayala hauled Tom to his feet with a vicious tug that ripped a huge hunk of hair out of the pilotís head. Stunned by the fresh pain, and half-blinded by the blood that immediately oozed down his forehead, Tom could only swing his fists ineffectively against the enraged Crewman.

Easily evading Tomís wild punches, Ayala spun the blonde around to face the table, jammed his hips against the wood and mashed his face down onto the baize.

"NO" Tom sobbed into the fabric as he felt Ayalaís arms reach around and unfasten his jeans. "Please. Please donít hurt me any more. Iíll fuck you. I WANT to fuck you. Please, Jesper, please donít do this."

"Shut the fuck up!" Ayala snarled, clipping Tom viciously across the back of the head with one hand as he pulled the jeans down with the other.

Tomís nose broke against the table as the heavy blow crushed his face. He began to gasp and choke.

"Please, please donít" he whimpered through a mouthful of blood.

Ayala ignored him, dragging Tomís right shoe off so that he could release one leg of the jeans, then he forced the pilotís legs wide apart.

He gazed with satisfaction at the familiar sight of Tomís naked ass.

As he freed his eager cock he realised that he had nothing to use as lubrication. Shit. Then again, why the hell bother anyway? Tomís ass was used to having Ayalaís cock up it.

Besides, he wanted to make the cheeky slag scream for daring to refuse him. Tom had lost the right to say no years ago.

"Youíre a fucking tart, Tom" He snarled in outrage "Itís too late to play hard to get when half the Delta Quadrant has had a taste of your butt!"

"Please, Iím sorry. Iím sorry. PLEASE." Tom wailed.

He couldnít bear it, being hurt, being FORCED. "I want to fuck you Jesper, please, I was kidding, thatís all, just teasing. Let me go, Iíll make you feel good, I promise Iíll make it up to you. Iíll be so GOOD, Jesper, Iíll be the best fuck youíve ever had. Just let me go!" Tom begged desperately

"THIS is going to be the best fuck Iíve ever had, Paris. Iím gonna ream your ass until you canít fucking walk." Ayala promised gleefully

Tom moaned in horrified despair.

Grinning at the slutís helpless moan of passion, Ayala positioned himself, guiding the tip of his cock to Tomís entrance and then mindful of his dry cock, he began to slowly grind himself in.

Tom clenched his ass against the assault. For a moment his muscles held against the pressure and Ayala pushed futilely against the resistance. Tomís pathetic attempt to resist him reawoke Ayalaís fury. He gave up all pretence of patience and rammed home in one furious push.

Tomís ear-shattering howl of pain only increased his excitement. Again and again he violently thrust in and out of Tomís ass until the pilotís screams eventually faded into mere broken whimpers and moans.


Chakotay materialised in Sandrines full of righteous fury. He had not stopped to consider his actions. He had been blinded by jealousy at the realisation that Tom and Ayala were alone together. He fully expected to find Tom sat on Ayalaís lap at the bar again, engaged in the usual flirtatious foreplay.

He was determined to grab Tom before he left with Ayala and instead haul him back to HIS quarters to continue their "talk".

Therefore, the sight of Ayala and Tom fucking like rabbits on the pool table quite took the wind out of his sails. Tom was face down on the table moaning with passion; his long pale legs spread invitingly wide as Ayala humped furiously.

Chakotay felt himself colour with embarrassment. What the hell was he going to do now? He could hardly walk up to the pair and ask them to please stop.

Chakotay cursed himself for being a middle-aged fool. For all of his efforts, despite all of his interference, the moment he had turned his back, Tom had taken the first opportunity to go looking for a quick meaningless fuck.

Bitter tears stung his eyes as he turned away from the sight and crept softly to the door. It was over. Tom had made his choice. Chakotay would just have to live with it.


As Ayala thrust roughly into his ass, his hands clawing deep bruises into his hips, Tom whimpered in humiliation and pain. The edge of the table was grinding against his broken rib sending sharp stabs of agony though his chest as his lungs were crushed under Ayalaís weight.

With his nose broken and his mouth full of blood, Tomís tortured lungs began to fail. So it was less the rape than the realisation that he was literally suffocating that made Tom begin to thrash wildly again for escape. His arms flailed in panic, his elbows battering at Ayalaís sides.

Ayala grunted with pain as one of Tomís elbows connected with his rib cage. He released Tomís hips and grabbed his wrists instead and then firmly pinned Tomís arms down onto the table.

And it was the feeling of being thus restrained that finally pushed Tom over the edge.



Too embarrassed by the thought of being discovered to risk using voice controls, Chakotay was still quietly tapping in an exit command into the arch when Tomís scream filled the holodec.


Ayala thrust mercilessly, his lust fueled by the pilotís deafening scream and he erupted into Tomís battered ass. His own orgasmic yell deafened Chakotayís approach. Ayala was completely unaware of the pounding footsteps behind him until a powerful hand grabbed him by the neck and dragged him off the pilot.

Ayalaís cock was ripped out of Tomís butt in a spray of blood and cum.

Chakotay had reacted instinctively to the sound of Tomís evident pain and distress. He had run to stop what he imagined was rough sex getting out of hand. It was only as he saw the blood dripping from Ayalaís cock and the red streams pouring down Tomís inner thighs that realisation finally hit him.

"You raped him? You fucking RAPED him?" He screamed at the cowering engineer, his horror increased still further by his own overwhelming guilt. Spirits, he had thought so little of Tom that he had intended to walk out and leave him at this bastardís mercy.

Ayala gulped convulsively as he fumbled to fasten his trousers. The huge Commander was spitting in fury, his face a wrathful scarlet.

"It wasnít rape" he gasped defensively "heís a whore, you canít rape a whore!"

For a moment Chakotay froze as Ayalaís words crashed into his head and then with a furious bellow he charged. His swinging uppercut into Ayalaís jaw sent the engineer spinning right over a table and chairs.

Ayala scrambled to his feet as Chakotay bore down on him like a maddened Targ. He backpedaled from Chakotayís fists until his back was trapped against the bar.

"Shit, Commander. Iím sorry. I didnít know you wanted him for yourself. Heís yours. Okay?" Ayala offered, his hands outstretched in a plea for mercy.

Chakotayís only reply was a vicious series of body jabs as the maddened Indian used all of his boxing skills to batter Ayalaís chest and stomach.

Ayala reeled and staggered under the assault. He cowered and cringed, his arms protectively covering his face.

Then a particularly violent blow to his stomach made his knees collapse and as he sank towards the floor a final uppercut caught him in his jaw and the back of his head hit the bar.

Chakotay waited until Ayala slid down the side of the bar into an unconscious heap on the floor and then he spread Ayalaís legs and with careful precision he ground his heel down onto the Engineers balls.

He didnít stop until he heard a muffled popping sound.

Ayala would never rape anyone again.

Then he finally turned and rushed back to Tom.

Tom hadnít moved. He was still bent over the pool table, heart-wrenching sobs racking his whole body.

"Tom, Tom honey, itís okay, Iím here. Itís over." Chakotay soothed, tentatively stroking the pilotís quivering back.

Tom didnít even flinch from his touch. Chakotay gently helped him to his feet and turned him so that they were face to face.

Tomís face was white with shock, his eyes glazed and staring into some inner hell. He seemed totally unaware of Chakotayís presence. He was mumbling incoherently, completely lost in some kind of fugue state.

Chakotay knew he needed to get Tom to sickbay, but he was also too aware of the need to get Tom dressed first. Ayalaís words "You canít rape a whore" were playing over and over in his head. Sickeningly he knew that no one on Voyager would give a damn about what had happened to Tom. They would all say that he "asked for it". Public awareness of the rape wouldnít bring Tom sympathy, only more shame and humiliation.

"Come on baby, help me out here" he murmured as he began to drag Tomís tight jeans back up the pilotís bloody legs and over his trembling hips. Then, as gently as possible Chakotay went to tuck Tomís limp cock into his fly.

The feel of Chakotayís fingers on his cock shocked Tom back into semi-awareness. He leapt backwards in terror, realised he was trapped against the pool table and whimpered desperately

"Please, Daddy. Please donít. Donít daddy. It hurts. It hurts so bad, daddy. Please donít hurt me anymore!"

And thatís when Chakotay finally understood.