Title:   Arachnia’s winding stair
Author:  Veronica Jane Williams
Contact: xkhoi@iafrica.com
Series:  Voyager
Part:    1/1 NEW
Rating:  NC-17
Codes:   J/C

SUMMARY: After Chakotay treated Kathryn to apples and cross-bows 
on the holodeck, it payback time. It’s her turn to turn him on...

Date Posted: 1 September 1999

Archive info: ASC 

WARNING: This is series PWP SMUTFEST. Really not for the 
faint-hearted.

With apology to TW’s drabble 7, I only read that drabble after I 
had finished writing this smutfest extravaganza. Only then I 
realised some coincidental references. 

So, okay. I was in a bit of a hurry, it may be milder than you 
think. It's all Nikki's fault! I read the challenge at 5AM.
I sat at work and couldn't stop thinking about this story that 
wouldn't leave my head...


Comments: Comments or commentary, fine.

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Voyager, Janeway and Chakotay. This 
little PWP piece is mine.



ARACHNIA’S WINDING STAIR

“Oh no, no, said the little fly,
To ask me is in vain,
for who goes up your winding stair,
can ne’er come down again.”

There was no Chaotica, no side-kicks, Chakotay noticed as he 
stepped into the den. He took some time looking around, and 
realised that it was not Chaotica’s room after all. It looked 
more like... a lair, the hub of a spider’s web, judging by the 
intricate web-like designs on all the walls. He wished for a 
moment he hadn’t agreed to do this, but she was still smarting  
from the apple he phasered off her head, using a real crossbow. He 
smiled. He really got her that time. That time... was it only 
three weeks ago? 

Now, he stood in the middle of the floor and waited. He saw the 
mirror only a little belatedly. It was perched against a wall just 
behind an ornate chair with its high back. Strange mirror, he 
thought as he imagined he saw a figure in it, facing him. He 
blinked, and the figure was gone. Chakotay shook his head. What 
now, Kathryn? He looked up, almost by chance, the way a person 
looked who entered a strange room for the first time. He saw 
himself standing, his movements mimicked above him against the 
ceiling. <Smart move, Kathryn>, he thought. <Smart move>. What 
Kathryn was planning, he was going to see every move. Every 
movement. He closed his eyes and opened them again to look at his 
attire.

He wore the double breasted suit she ordered him to wear. He shook
his shoulders a bit. He felt a little uncomfortable. The suit was 
in the style of the day of the  mid nineteen-thirties, a pinstriped 
charcoal. It did sit well on him, he acceded, although his 
broad shoulders made the suit’s shoulder pads unnecessary adjuncts. 
He smiled grimly. He had to endure the curious smiles and snickers 
of the crew he passed on his way to the holodeck. It didn’t make it 
easier that he had to carry a smart, golden knobbed cane and a 
trilby. His hand went up to stroke the brim of the hat. The fabric 
was felt, and it felt soft. Somehow he couldn’t imagine himself 
looking smart in it, but she insisted. The shoes... Damn. The toe 
sections were white with black stitching. If he were to think about 
it, he could very well have been a member of Lucky Luciano’s gang of 
the nineteen thirties back on earth. 

So he stood and waited. His hands rested on the cane and he looked
about him, a little impatiently now. Damn, when was she going to 
make an appearance?

*****

Kathryn stood behind the mirror. In truth, it was not really a 
mirror, but a real neat trick of light Tom had programmed, as he 
did with the ceiling. Tom had given her one look, smirked and said: 
“You go get your man, Captain.”  She had given him a glare that 
said: Don’t you dare pry, and all she got from him was a reprise of 
his words: “Remember, you’re the Queen!” She had to laugh then. The 
crew... She just shook her head in mild surprise. They were aiding 
and abetting the antics of their first officers. Ever since she 
beamed Chakotay’s clothes out of the holodeck... They had come to 
hear of it. She smiled again. “It’s just your brand of fun, Ma’am,” 
Tom said as he smirked again. She felt like trusting him into the 
brig again if she saw that smile...

To the onlooker it would look like one, but the mirror was merely a 
walk-through. Much like the magic mirrors in Earth fairytales, or 
something. She smiled a little wickedly. Chakotay gave her one hell 
of an experience when he had her tied to a tree, shooting an apple 
off her head. She remembered her slight alarm when she saw the 
great cross-bow he held against his shoulder. She smiled again. She 
had time to notice too, that he was stark naked, and with a giant 
erection to boot just before she closed her eyes as he fired. The 
next moment, before she could even recover or open her eyes, she 
felt him ramming his thick, swollen penis into her, burying himself 
so deep that she almost fainted for a second. 

She knew then she was going to get him back. It was a game. 

Kathryn watched how Chakotay’s eyes darted about the room. <He’s 
curious, and a little impatient>, she thought.

She smoothed down her dress. Arachnia’s outfit. Classic thirties. 
The high collar fanned out in thin transparent flair about her 
slender shoulders. It was diaphanous frame, supported only by the 
thin little wires that resembled spider’s webbing. The dress was in 
soft lurex fabric, and it clung to her, accentuating every gentle 
curve. The long slit in front stretched from just below the cleft 
between her legs, revealing her elegant legs and ankles. She still 
had to get used to the ridiculous high heels of the shoes she wore. 
Her hair, in the style of the thirties, was piled up and held by a 
clasped that resembled a silver spider. Her lips were a deep red, 
and as she looked at her hands, she smiled at the anticipation at 
what the extra, extra long, black nails would do...

Kathryn Janeway, Captain of the Federation Starship, USS Voyager, 
stepped through the mirror...

**********

Chakotay gasped as he saw Kathryn walk through the mirror. He gaped 
for one second, then looked warily as she approached him. She 
stopped right in front of him, her heavy and heady perfume invading 
his nostrils. It was a maddening smell, a mixture of a number of 
flowers and who knew what other things. His eyes locked with hers. 
Hers were cool, calculating, yet he sensed the fire smouldering 
behind them. His eyes were burning, and he didn’t bother to conceal 
his desire, his raw need. His hand involuntarily left the cane and 
when he tried to touch her face, so that he could caress those blood 
red lips, her own hand shot out and caught his.

He saw the warning look in her eyes; it told him she was in control.
She snapped her fingers, and immediately the room filled with 
people, all of them in costume. He looked round and recognised some 
of the senior crew. They were smirking...smirking holograms... He 
was still pondering on the looks on their faces, their purpose, when 
she took the cane from him. She pressed slightly against him, and he 
could feel the softness of the dress, her soft breasts that peeked 
just tantalisingly from the hollow cut in the bodice section. He 
wanted to press his face against them, but she placed her fingers 
against his lips and silenced him, her own lips pursing as she 
mimicked the action. He could feel something happening to him as 
his body started warming. He stood and waited. His cheeks were 
flaming, and his breath rasped slightly.

She lifted the cane and - why hadn’t he noticed it before? - and 
flicked a hidden switch on it. As sharp as she sharpest flick 
knife, a long blade shot out at the end of the stick.

Chakotay swallowed. <What the - > he was still thinking as she 
stood about a metre away from him and held the “sword” at arm’s 
length, the blade neatly against the rim of the trilby he still had 
on his head. In one swift move, she flicked the trilby off and it 
swivelled cabaret style on the edge of the cane and blade. He 
followed the movement, and only dimly he heard the applause from 
the audience. He didn’t even want to look at them, knowing already 
the programmed sickly grins on their faces. He was going to give a 
command performance to an audience of holograms...

Kathryn smiled, then she pouted her lips and blew a kiss. She was 
wanton, a spider drawing him into her web... He swallowed again. 
“No talking, Chakotay,” she had instructed earlier. What could he 
say but endure what was happening?  Or what was gong to happen? 
There was some dread, embarrassment and anticipation in him. All 
conflicting emotions which boiled down eventually to one thing 
only: Whatever it is she planned, he wanted it... He was going 
willingly into the web she spun and he felt like never coming out 
again. She could eat him up, for all he cared. He was tied to her, 
in mind, body and soul. Right now, he was putty, or a poor weak 
little fly struggling vainly, then giving up.

<She could kill me with that bayonet>, he thought as he felt her 
slipping the blade deftly into his neck, where she hooked it into
his tie. She yanked deftly only once. The tie fell to the floor  - 
no, it slid like a snake down his trousers, resting on the toes of 
his shoes. He looked down, and for the first time he was really 
aware of the surface.  

<Oh, spirits>, he thought...

He looked up again, only to see Kathryn smile sweetly. She pouted 
again and made a smooching sound. He felt something ripping 
inelegantly. When he looked again, the jacket was lying on the 
floor. <How did...?>, he wondered as he stared at the discarded 
jacket. He was bemused. Her pheromones made him drunk, it made him 
do anything she wanted... After the jacket joined the tie, he gave 
up...

His eyes popped, it seemed when she pushed one leg in front of the 
other, the slit in the dress fell away and slithered over her thigh. 
It exposed a gloriously shaped leg in silk stockings held up by 
what he could only think had to be a garter. He could feel himself 
hardening, just looking at that leg. But she could see where he was 
looking, and the next moment, he felt the sharp stab of the blade 
just breaking a little flesh under his chin. He gulped again as his 
chin raised, more out of complying than feeling the actual pain. 
Then she motioned him to turn around. 

Damn, he thought to himself as he felt the blade cutting through 
the braces. He’d forgotten he was wearing braces to hold the 
trousers up. He was still thinking this as the braces gave way and 
the trousers landed in an ungainly pile about his ankles. He felt 
the thwack of the cane against his calf and he winced slightly. He 
tried to turn to look at her again, but the blade knocked against 
his head.

<Fine, Kathryn, it’s your move, this time>, he was thinking as he 
heard the laughter of the audience. A single tear down the back, 
and his shirt joined the trousers on the floor. He felt the edge of 
the bayonet teasing the skin along his spine as the blade followed 
the shirt down. Another thwack against his leg, and he knew he had 
to step out of the puddle of clothing. Thank goodness he wasn’t 
wearing a pair of long johns... But quickly, the blade of the cane 
hooked into the band of the full briefs he was ordered to wear. He 
heard her breathing heavily behind him. Slowly, very slowly the 
briefs slid over his hips, buttocks, thighs... He could feel the 
sharp edge scoring the skin of his buttocks. A few seconds later, 
the cut up briefs lay on the floor. He was now finally naked. Or so 
he thought. He was still in his socks and shoes...
 
The audience gave a round of applause. He followed their eyes, and 
they were looking... He looked down and watched how his erect penis 
bobbed a little. He groaned as the pain of the erection hit him. 
The foreskin was pulled far back, so that the shiny glans with its 
little slit stood out like an arrowhead. He watched in fascination 
how the tiny veins on his glans seemed to move as his penis 
throbbed. It wanted to be somewhere, like home, like between 
Kathryn’s legs...

He was still wondering what her next move will be, when he felt 
her hands on his shoulders, pressing him forward. He had to walk, 
he realised, right up to the audience. The blade nudged into the 
small of his back. He wanted to look round to see her, but couldn’t 
as the cane hit his head. Then there was another thwack! right 
across his butt. He lurched his hips forward. His penis bobbed 
wildly for a second before it stood stiffly still again. Another 
hit and he did it again.

It wasn’t until he felt the third sharp sting across his smarting
buttocks that he realised what he had to do.

<Fine, if that’s how you want it>, he thought as he walked from one
member of the audience to the next, strutting his penis, swaying
his hips. She was behind him all the time so he couldn’t see what 
she was doing. He felt hands on him, stroking him, firing him up.
He just seemed to get harder and more swollen. His hands on his
hips, he walked around like a prize fighter, strutting and bending, 
arms up like a victor. All the time, his shaft bobbing along, hands 
touching the tip.  

<Damn, you, Kathryn, I’ll get you for this>, was his last 
embarrassing thought as he was led to the edge of the covered floor. 
He guessed it had to be near the holodeck doors. No escape. He was 
naked.

He felt her hands on him again as he, facing the holodeck entrance, 
was pressed down to the floor. He sat there, legs outstretched in 
front of him. He gave a soft cry as he gently frigged his shaft 
to try an relieve some of the tension and heat. The result was a 
little disaster as he watched the first of the pre-cum drops 
sliding down.  Boy, he thought, it was painful, so hard it was. He 
wanted to ram his arrow into Kathryn, open her legs wide and just 
shove himself deeply into her. If he didn’t get any release now, he 
realised, he was going to embarrass himself further. 

Lie down flat, the cane seemed to tell him. He complied.

He heard her movement, heard the soft tread of her heels into the 
pile of the coarse rug. 

The next moment, she was standing, facing him, her legs astride him 
just where his hips were. He almost gave a cry as he looked up from 
the floor. She was completely naked, except for the high heels, and 
the trilby she had on her head. Where did the little bow tie come 
from that he spotted around her neck? He stared at the patch of 
golden hair at her centre. Stared really long, then gasped. <What 
the hell?> he thought as he spotted not one, but two gold rings, 
each piercing the quivering lips of her vulva. <My God, I’m 
dying...>. He heard from far off the audience applauding again as 
he watched, with ever widening eyes, Kathryn lower herself to a 
kneeling position, until she was on her knees, her vagina just 
grazing his penis. Her breasts were firm, her nipples erect, and as 
he felt her vagina against him, he almost swooned. He looked at his 
penis, and it seemed to him his arrow was headed for her mouth... 
She snuggled down, and while he could see only the top of the 
trilby, he felt her lips closing around his tip, her tongue licking 
the tiny slit. His pre-cum drops vanished down her throat as he 
felt her swallow. His body raged, he wanted to push up, but she held 
him down.

He was swamped by desire so great he wasn’t certain anymore where 
his body belonged. It certainly didn’t belong to him. She sat up 
again. She hadn’t touched his face, but it was as if her very 
breath caressed him; he careened, careened... then knew no more as 
he watched her hands - no, her pinkies, hooking into the two rings. 
He stared in fascination as she pulled the rings to part her folds. 
He saw pink flesh, a rose swelling and opening as it lowered to 
cover his tip. He closed his eyes and sighed. 

Then he stifled a cry as he felt at last the moist heat of her 
sheath  sinking slowly, slowly down on him. It burned around him 
and he growled out loud as he filled her, throbbing all the way in. 
He filled her to the hilt, she was tight, hot, smooth, everything. 
He didn’t want to be free as he felt her sheath muscles squeezing 
on him as she sat on his hips. Then only, she grabbed the sides of 
his head, and pulled his face close to hers. She had to half lie 
over him, and her nipples touched and brushed the hair on his 
chest. He groaned. With her tongue she lapped at his face, licking 
his tattoo, his lips, his cheeks. He was burning up, and about to 
explode as he felt her moving slowly up and down on him. Suddenly, 
she jerked his head. His neck arched so that his head tilted far 
backwards. Her hands were at the sides. He could look only in one 
direction: upside down and behind him. The throne... which, if he 
estimated correctly in the near drunk state he was in, was ten 
metres away.  

That was when, like a horsewhip, he felt the cane hit his thigh
again. She nodded with her head that he move in the direction of 
the chair.

He still had his shoes on, and with the heels dug firmly against 
the pile of the rough rug, his knees a little bent, he moved. With 
every move Kathryn pumped him up and down. He was finished, he 
thought as he grunted the way she rose and sank down on him, with 
every deep thrust her muscles clenching his penis tight. He heard 
her sighs and moans, sometimes grunts as she bobbed on him. Move! 
the order seemed to come from her grunting. He knew he was moving 
backwards, towards the throne, and the pain of the coarse surface 
tearing skin off his back registered only mildly as the ecstasy of 
thrusting into her brought him to near release. He knew the exact 
moment he felt his release. But she sensed it, and stopped 
suddenly. He groaned out loud, but was glad for the reprieve. She 
held his orgasm back, but he was throbbing wildly in her. He looked 
at her, but her head was thrown back. Somehow, the trilby stayed on 
her head... Her mouth was open, her breathing shallow, her nipples 
taut. He wanted to squeeze them but his hands held her hips tightly. 
Then he lifted her and brought her down hard on him. He heard her 
loud grunt, then he started moving again mindless of the pain in 
back.

Their bodies were bathed in sweat. His fingers slid from her hips.
He burrowed to where his penis was stuck so deep in her, just so 
that he could touch the rings that pierced her folds. He hooked his 
fingers into each ring, and with his thumb, he managed to unsheathe 
her clit. He rubbed and stroked her into a frenzy. She moaned and 
swayed above him. Then he grabbed her hands and moved again. He had 
long given up thinking about the pain of the coarse rug that seemed 
to become his new skin.

He knew he reached the chair when he head knocked against the leg 
of it. He stopped and looked at her. “Your move,” his eyes seemed 
to say.

She bent over him, and kissed him, his mouth opening under his. He 
tasted her nectar, her sweetness, and almost swooned again as her 
breasts pressed against him. It was soft, smooth. His arms enfolded 
her, her slick skin smooth under his hands. He stroked her smooth 
back, his hands roaming over the firm buttocks, brushing and 
smoothing, while he nipped at her, her lips, her ear lobes, bit 
into her skin. He felt her tug at him. He stilled, his eyes burning 
on her, then he slowly lifted her up. He was still firmly embedded 
in her, still throbbing like mad, and no released yet. He 
maneuvered himself so that he brought her up with him without 
releasing himself from her. At last he sat on the throne, with 
Kathryn on his lap, and her legs around him. 

Her lips were close to his, but he held her head back so that her 
neck arched. Damned if the trilby didn’t fall off yet. His mouth 
latched onto the creamy skin of her neck, trailed kisses all over 
her. With a soft sigh he pressed his face against her breasts, took 
in her fragrance, wanting her forever, loving her eternally. Like a 
baby aiming instinctively for the nipple, his mouth closed on one 
and he sucked and bit into her, grazing with his teeth while at the 
same time his hands supported her at the waist. For several long 
seconds he lifted her and plunged her down hard on him. She 
appeared insatiable as she returned his pleasure, holding his head 
close against her breast. He heard the sucking motion as her juices 
mixed with his, while they moved together.

He could feel the storm reaching its peak as their movements became 
so frenzied, their loud cries and grunts accompanied all rhythm as 
she was raised and brought down on him. Her hands were now on the 
back rest on the throne, head thrown back, and beneath her 
Chakotay gave one great bucking movement before he exploded 
blindingly into a shower of sparks that left him momentarily 
queasy. For long moments he felt his hot semen spurting into her as 
he shuddered and shuddered.

Everything seemed quiet as their bodies relaxed at last. Their 
breathing became normal again after several long minutes as he held 
her protectively against him. He felt his eyes sting. Against her 
damp skin his mouth formed silent words. 

At last he raised his head in a lazy movement. He was still hard 
in , but not painfully so. The skin on his back... who cared? He 
smiled, the smile causing the dimples in his cheeks to deepen. With 
one hand, she tipped the trilby at last from her head, then she 
bent forward to kiss him gently.

“Well?” she asked at last.

“My queen,” he said gruffly, “that’s some body piercing you’ve 
got...”

END


that's all, folks.