It had started out as a perfectly ordinary first contact mission. They'd been invited to a feast in their honor, all of the proper introductions had been made and by the end of the evening, he and Trensaw IV's Head Minister had even been discussing Federation membership. Pleased with himself, Kirk had relaxed and had made the mistake of indulging in a little bit too much of the native wine (a toast at the Head Minister's insistence). He'd only stepped outside for a moment to clear his head and hopefully rid himself of the oncoming nausea when he was attacked. It was dark, so naturally, he hadn't gotten that good of a look at their faces. Alone and out-manned, he'd been knocked unconscious.
He'd awoken he wasn't sure how many hours later in a prison cell. Shortly after, a man (or woman, he honestly didn't know which) from a species Kirk didn't recognize had proceeded to demand something from him in an obscure language that he couldn't make any sense of. When he'd told he/she/it that he couldn't understand, he'd received a sharp shock from a device that reminded him of a 22nd century cattle prod. As he'd gasped for breath, the alien had once again spat its demand at him in that same language. Again, he'd told it he didn't speak its language, which had earned him another poke from the cattle prod.
The alien did this for some time and in several sessions daily over the course of several days. Each day, Kirk grew weaker with the time between sessions becoming shorter and shorter and his daily rations of slop and water becoming less and less. After the last session, he actually sobbed, his chest heaving, though no tears fell. His body was too dehydrated to produce tears. He'd thought it couldn't get any worse. But that was before this most recent session where he found himself naked and exposed to the alien's leering gaze.
Kirk felt a lump form in his throat and shuddered, knowing what was about to happen. That look was the same one his uncle had given him right before...he shook the memories from his head, trying to focus on happier things. He knew from experience that he couldn't stop what was about to happen, only try to escape it.
In this case, his escape was into his own mind, which, thanks to his eidetic memory, recalled perfectly the details of the sun setting on the horizon. The waters of Lake Michigan lapped at the shore and the sand crunched beneath his feet as he walked the shoreline with Rae Lynn, the neighboring farmer's daughter. She laughed gleefully as he heaved her over his shoulder, twirling them both until they were dizzy.
He then set her down and kissed her passionately, fire racing through his veins as she caressed his naked arms and chest. Within moments, he had her on her back in the sand, making love to her as the gentle waves lapped at their heels. She called out his name as she climaxed and he followed soon after her, groaning her name into the still twilight.