Starfuck: Jeri Ryan

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Not to be read by anyone under 18. This story contains
explicit descriptions of non-consensual sex. If this offends
you, please look elsewhere. This is FICTION. Mind control /
hypnosis is just a fantasy. If you are tempted to recreate
the following scenes, your psychiatrist is going to be a very
happy man……

Starfuck is designed to be a series of STAND ALONE
(much like the Hypno- Celeb franchise). However, each story
will feature the same protagonist – an individual with the
power to control people’s minds. At some point, I might
determine the limitations of this power (ie how many people he
can control at any one time), but for now all you need know is
that in order for control to be established he must have
skin-to-skin contact with his target, though only for a split
second. Now, lets just kick back and watch him put his talent
to good use….. Comments and suggestions for future stories
always welcome! [email protected]

Starfuck: Jeri Ryan
by Mephistopheles

Jeri Ryan took the world by storm when she was first
introduced into ‘Star Trek Voyager’ in 1997. Considering
‘Voyager’ is allegedly Trek’s feminist project, it’s ironic –
a quite delicious irony, at that – that it took a blond
bombshell in a tight catsuit to finally boost the ratings.
Then again, how could anyone possibly resist the phenomenal
Borg-Babe? Her biggest assets were those incredibly tight
catsuits; which, in turn, emphasised her other, considerable,
assets – T & A. Not me certainly. With her face – and body –
plastered over every other magazine, it didn’t take long for
me to develop an interest. Thankfully the internet provided
me with ample opportunity to study her every curve, crammed as
it is with infinite angles of that wonderful bust through
those infamous catsuits. Fortunately, unlike my fellow
net-surfers, I don’t need to dribble over a collection of
photographs – I’d rather drool over the body of the genuine
article…… I encounter Jeri Ryan off-set of an VH1
special that she was presenting. Under my influence, she opts
to lose the conservative garb, going instead with a tiny
bikini – as a result, a quite substantial portion of very
appealing flesh is on display. The ensuing beach volleyball
game is my gift to all those Seven-of-Nine fans out
there……. As soon as shooting wraps, I escort Jeri to my
car. Once there, she strips, allowing me to gaze at those
large tits and the thin strip of short blond hair between her
legs. Rather than have her sit next to me, I have her kneel
down and suck me off while I drive. Her mouth feels good as
she works my entire length into her mouth. She looks
absolutely adorable, clad only in a pair of killer shades,
blond head bobbing up and down on my cock. I need apply no
physical pressure; she is moving at exactly the right speed,
compelled by my mere thought. Slowing the car, I begin to
come. Jeri obediently moves me deeper into her throat,
allowing me to shoot my spunk directly into her stomach. I
love the feel as she gags silently. After she has cleaned me
up, I sit her in the passenger chair and command her to
masturbate. She sets to it with evident relish, and, pretty
soon her head is jerking back and forth as an orgasm
approaches. Other drivers can’t take their eyes off of her; a
beautiful blond, decked out in cool ray- bans, jacking herself
off in the front seat of an open top sports-car – and those
who recognise her realise this sight is an even bigger treat.
Committed though she is, I prevent her from reaching orgasm;
aware that her frustration is making her insatiable.
Insatiability I can use…… Arriving at my apartment, we
immediately retire to the bedroom. Standing right behind her,
I begin to grope those large breasts, while my penis pokes
into her back. Turning her about, I take a nipple into my
mouth, sucking it gently, before biting down upon it. In that
moment, I have turned her into a masochist. From now on all
types of pain, so long as they are inflicted upon her by
others, will provide an immense thrill. To demonstrate, I
grind her nipple between my teeth. Her cry of sheer delight
is music to my ears….. Moving to the bed, I position her so
that I can slide my cock between her tits. Pushing them
together with my hands, I begin to fuck her chest. While I am
so engaged, she raises her head, her tongue flicking over my
cock every time it gets within range. As I near my climax, I
allow her to orgasm, and she gratefully shudders with pleasure
at the release. This pushes me to the edge and I begin to
come; all over her tits, her hair, and on to that icily
beautiful face…. When she has cleaned up, I have her
dress in one of Seven’s catsuits – brown and exceedingly
fitting – easily obtained from the ‘Voyager’ set. It fits her
like a dream; in theory she is dressed, in practise the
costume leaves precious little to the imagination. Her erect
nipples make a sizeable impression on the material, while her
arse cheeks are separated by a very evident cleft. For all the
protection the suit offers, Ms Ryan might as well be naked.
Having got the look, it is a simple matter to submerge her
personality, and replace it with that of Seven-of-Nine. To
all intents and purposes, Jeri Ryan no longer exists; she has
become Borg Babe. Of course, regardless of her personality,
she is still completely enslaved to my will….. The car
journey is relatively uneventful. I content myself with
easing Jeri’s – or Seven’s, as she is henceforth to be known –
hand into my pants to wank me off. She is quite beautiful;
icily detached, staring straight ahead through the windscreen,
her face a mask of complete disinterest, while her left arm
jerks me off. Even this movement is cool, steady, mechanical.
I select the seediest bar I can find. A real flea-pit.
Advertised by a gaudy neon sign, ‘The Meagre Beaver’ certainly
doesn’t disappoint. Living up to its title, there are no
women to be found within the premises; indeed, judging by the
motley group of redneck Neanderthals to be found clustered
around the joint’s sole attraction – a tatty old pool table –
women might well be thought an extinct species in these parts.
As one might expect, Seven’s entrance into this
environment proves explosive. As their attention is
understandably arrested, I stroll into the bar entirely
unnoticed. Seven stops at the table, scooping the cue ball up
in her hand. She now has their undivided attention – as if
she didn’t have already. A short fat man is the first to
speak. "What’s your name, sweetcakes?" "My designation is
Seven-of-Nine. I am Borg. Your distinctiveness will be added
to the Collective. You will be assimilated." Every eye
in the room is upon her, every penis raised in her honour, yet
her delivery is cool as a cucumber. If any word can capture
her essence, excusing the more obvious appreciations, it would
have to be unflappable. She turns to the man nearest to her –
an oily youth of maybe twenty years – steps forward until she
is inches from his quivering bosom, and eyes him with complete
disdain. Without warning, her hands grip his head and pull it
to her own. She kisses him, slowly. Sexily. Breaking their
embrace, she throws him to the floor. Her eyes scan the other
seven men in the room – sizing them up, and, to judge from the
icy veneer, reaching an unsatisfactory conclusion.
"Resistance is futile." In an instant, she is grabbed from
behind, her arms twisted painfully behind her back. The oily
youth picks himself up, walks up to the helpless Seven, and
strikes her hard across the right cheek. He hits her again
and again, muttering abuse as he does so. "Shit! I think
the bitch likes it!" They stop and stare. While he has been
hitting her, Seven has began to rub her arse against her
captor’s jean covered erection, working it in between her arse
cheeks. They begin to realise what they have got on their
hands…. "Let’s see if she digs this." A stocky,
middle-aged man step forward, brandishing a flick knife.
Slowly, he begins to drag the blade down Seven’s uniform,
slicing through the material, and, occasionally, nicking
Seven’s skin. As the blade reaches her stomach, she suddenly
twists herself free, striking the knife from the hand of her
assailant. Almost as quickly, she is recaptured; three men
wrestle her to the floor. "No. Not the floor. Stick her on
the table." Helpless, Seven is hoisted into the air, before
being placed on her back on top of the green felt. Her arms
and legs are held firm as the rest of her uniform is cut and
torn from her body. For a moment, they are content to merely
admire her perfection, but then one of the cues is passed to
the front. "Fuck the bitch with this!" The cue is
inverted, and the thick end is pressed up to Seven’s cunt.
Suddenly, it is pushed into her, the wielder twisting it
sharply like a cork- screw to get its full width in. For all
her icy cool, Seven screams just like anyone else. The cue is
ripping her inside out, and yet, despite herself, she
feels…..aroused. She begins to gently buck against the cue,
gently, but noticeable. "Hot damn!" "The bitch likes
it!" "Look at her go!" "Give the lady what she wants!" The
cue is pulled out with one swift jerk, a painful procedure for
Seven, but she does not remain empty for long. This time it
is a thick cock that pushes into her pussy. Simultaneously,
her head is grasped, pulled back 900, and a cock is inserted
into her open mouth. As the two men set to work on these
orifices, two cocks are pressed into her open hands. She
responses by wrapping her hands around them and beginning to
wank. From my vantage point, I watch this impressive
sight. Seven-of-Nine is laid out on the pool table, cocks
fucking her cunt and mouth, jerking off another cock in each
hand, while the remainder of the gang wank over her prostate
form. I browse through her mind, reaching the part of Jeri
Ryan that is conscious of her surroundings. She is terrified,
disgusted, yet, perversely turned on…… She realises that
this is what she deserves. Flaunting her body every week on
‘Voyager’, what else could she expect? If you dress like a
slut….It is this final rationalisation that I shall promote;
it can be used to convince Jeri Ryan into a gang-bang hungry
slut. Fitting retribution for this haughty, blond,

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