Spankings are terribly barbaric. It's a very serious form of spousal abuse, and in no way to I condone it.
Seven, you naughty, naughty girl.
This was intolerable.
It had been going on for weeks. Non-stop glancing, incessant innuendo, complete disregard for personal space. At first, Seven could tolerate it. She could console herself with the fact that the feisty auburn haired Captain had been lost in space with only an erectile defunct hologram for company, and for a while she empathized with the woman, even going so far as to bend over a bit more and thrust her monumental bosoms out when she was around.
But she quickly learned how bad of an idea this was, as it only served to escalate the boldness of Janeway's advances. Instead of sneaking a peak here and there when she thought Seven wasn't looking, she began to initiate entire conversations with one long, sultry glance at her chest. Instead of brushing against Seven in the turbolift with a blush and an apology, she had begun to rub against the ex-Borg and 'accidentally' touch her buttocks with her swagger when the duo walked together. She had even been showing up early to the pair's velocity matches to watch Seven change, and as of late those affectionate gestures with a towel had begun to creep lower and lower.
It had gone too far, and Seven decided she had to do something about it.
Even if she did have fledging feelings for Janeway, she was very new at things, and wished to experience a relationship properly. Slowly. Or perhaps just with out all of the ass slapping and tit watching.
And there was only one way Captain Kathryn Fucking Janeway would learn.
The woman was sitting behind her desk in her ready room, scanning the text on the padd clutched in her hands. When Seven entered, a dirty smirk crept over her face and her eyes slowly gravitated towards her enormous chest. The padd slipped out of her fingers, and her voice dropped a quarter of an octave.
"Hello." she said in a husky trill.
Saying nothing, the slender ex-Borg moved quickly behind the desk, placing her hands beneath Janeway's armpits and hoisting her unceremoniously from the chair. Sitting, she laid the bantam woman over her knees and prepared to strike.
"What the fuck, Seven?!" the Captain squealed, kicking her legs frantically.
"Cease," ordered Seven, "this is the only way."
Her arm swung back, before driving forwards so that her mesh-encased hand made contact with Janeway's derriere with a loud, flat smack.
"Jesus Christ!" screeched Janeway.
"You have gone too far."
"Your advances are intolerable."
"You naughty, naughty girl."
"FUCKING HELL, SEVEN!"
"Will you stop?"
"Yes, yes! Quit it!!"
With a mighty wriggle the Captain slipped free of Seven's loosened grip, her hands sliding over her hips to massage her rump tenderly. For all she wanted to be angry at the implacable woman before her, she could only feel stunning arousal emanating from her loins.
"Where did you learn that?" she asked, her curiosity overriding her anger.
"Lieutenant Torres suggested it to me when I informed her of our problem." stated Seven coolly.
Janeway rubbed the back of her neck, making a mental note to return the favour next time she saw the engineer. She really did want to yell at Seven, or at least kick her very hard in the shins, but all she could do was stand rooted to the spot in a mixture of shock and arousal.
"Um, well. Okay. I guess I, uh…" she paused, blushing furiously, "I guess I learned my lesson. Are we still on for Velocity tomorrow?"
"Yes," she nodded, turning to leave.
"Um, see you then."
Janeway gingerly sat back down and watched the slender frame of the ex-Borg retreat.
One thought consumed her mind.
Oh my god, I love you.
Hey, you know what? Leave a freakin' review.
And after you've done that, go read my Seven/Celes story and review that. 3