Sub-Officer Saleen knew she was doomed, but still she held her head high, refusing to let the Imperial barbarians see her defeated. She was a subject of the Romulan Empire - a true empire - and although her people were more emotional than the Vulcan cousins, she would not let her feelings show. Instead, she prayed to the spirits of great Romulan leaders long passed away, imploring them to grant her a swift and honourable end.

Saleen was forced to watch, an Imperial phaser at her temple, as her fellow crew-members were rounded up, the surviving command officers dragged away for interrogation whilst those without valuable knowledge were taken elsewhere, their fates unclear. The air was unusually heavy with static electricty, however, and the faintest hint of the smell of burnt meat told the young Romulan woman that the human Empire was not about to change its policies, and spare prisoners it could not use.

"This'll teach you to try and raid our outer colonies, Romulan witch", spat the human with the phaser. "You picked the wrong people to mess with, at the wrong place, and the wrong time. How nice of you to drop in on our patrol route, just as we were on our way back..."

The energy-emitter of the phaser pressed hard into Saleen's ear, the cold metal the last thing she expected to feel before being blasted to less than dust, but she had barely started to brace herself for death, eyes squeezed shut, when the weapon was suddenly withdrawn, and the Starfleet soldier withdrew. Curious despite her terror, the Romulan dared to open her eyes - only to find herself looking into eyes so much like her own, yet so astoundingly different...

Saleen knew straight away what she was looking at. The face, an exaggerated version of a Romulan, with larger ears and eyes, was that of one of the Empire's telepathic "elves", a dusky-skinned female with smooth raven-black hair pulled back and braided into a plait that fell down to her knees. She wore the more brief variant of a Starfleet woman's uniform, most common amongst junior officers, but the four gold studs on the halter-like top told Saleen that she was looking upon the captain of the vessel that had defeated the attack-force.

"I am Blackfire, Captain of the I.S.S. Ghidorah", the elf announced coldly. "Your crime against us is punishable by death..."

The Romulan shuddered despite herself. There were many rumours about the elves, and what their psychic powers could do to a captive. Once, the Empire had sent a propaganda message into the heart of Romulan territory, to discourage any further raids - the signal had been blocked by the Tal-Shi'Ar to prevent damage to already shaky morale, but enough had seen the message for word of its content to reach Saleen's ears. One of these elf-creatures had apparently used his powers to turn a Romulan captive inside out...

"Kill me, then", said the sub-officer sharply. She hoped her insolence would earn her the deliverance of a swift end. "I will not betray my Empire - the only power worthy of the title in this galaxy - no matter what evil you inflict upon me!"

The elf-woman threw back her head and laughed. It was a magical, musical sound, yet one tinged with inhuman spite and cruelty. "You can hardly call a few battle-scarred planets an empire!", sneered Captain Blackfire. "A hundred years ago, before you...encouraged our wrath, things might have been different."

"It could have been worse", growled another voice, that of a man - yet something about it suggested that the speaker was not human. "The Empire could have carried on, as it should have, and wiped your race from the Galaxy."

Once more, curiosity got the better of Saleen, and she looked in the direction of the voice. At first, she saw nothing, but when she directed her eyes more towards the floor, she caught sight of another elven face, surrounded by tawny, yellowish hair, some of which was gathered up into a crude top-knot. There was a feral gleam in his eyes - a gleam matched in the eyes of the great grey-furred beast at his side...

I never heard him enter!, thought the Romulan, amazed. Him, or the animal...

"Is the sweep complete, Brightsting?", the Starfleet captain enquired.

"We're done, My Lord", the shorter elf replied. "All crew accounted for and...processed - except for this one."

"Did we...?"

The smaller elf shook his head. "The chief engineer destroyed the cloaking device before we boarded", he reported. "He killed himself shortly after."

"Standard Romulan procedure - die, rather than be captured, but not before ensuring that no sensitive technology falls into enemy hands", sighed Blackfire. "Oh well, there's always next time. I'll have a cloaking device for my ship yet. Until then..."

The elf-woman's eyes fixed on Saleen. "Until then, I'll satisfy myself with what few rewards of conquest I've been able to earn."

Blackfire stepped back. She sent the briefest of glances towards her smaller subordinate, and he advanced, his beast following in his tracks. The short, curved sword at his side slid from its sheath with much-practised quickness and silence...

Once again, Sub-Officer Saleen prepared herself for death.

Cold metal touched the Romulan's flesh yet again, this time at her upper thigh, a short way above the top of her long gleaming black boot. The touch was brief, for the weapon was intended to cut cloth, not flesh. Sliding upwards, the blade sliced open the Romulan's short uniform dress from hem to throat, snagging only briefly in the strap of the halter about her breasts before severing that as well.

It was hard for Saleen to keep her composure under such degrading circumstances, but she stood straight and proud as the elf cut away her uniform, including the little triangle of black fabric fastened over her pubic region. "Leave the boots", Blackfire ordered as Brightsting stood back to admire his work. "She can keep those - but make sure she doesn't have any concealed weapons. I'd don't want her threatening me, or harming herself..."

The Romulan was confused by this treatment, especially coming from an Imperial captain. The elf-woman plainly wanted her for something...

That same instant, Saleen knew what was to be expected of her. Blackfire's mind entered hers only for a brief moment, the sound of her voice inside the Romulan's head deafening and burning all at once. ***I claim you as my slave, Romulan***, snarled the elven captain. ***You will serve me in any way I see fit, or I will have...terrible things done to your beautiful body.***

"Take her to my quarters", hissed Blackfire as Saleen dropped onto her knees, clutching at her head and panting for breath. "Have Strikes-Like-The-Hawk meet you there. This girl will need instruction."

"You'll want me to take her on the Slaves' Walk, My Lord?", asked Brightsting.

Captain Blackfire raised a gracefully-arched eyebrow in amusement. "But of course...", she purred. "Let everyone see my prize."

Saleen quickly found that the humiliation of being stripped was nothing compared to being paraded through the corridors of the Empire ship, displayed before the lustful eyes of all ranks - and both sexes - with nothing to hide her bare body with. Her degradation reached its peak in what passed for the ship's main recreation area, in a forward part of one of the lower decks of the main saucer section. The crew members there were mostly the worse for intoxicating drink, and the comments made about her body, and what could be done with it, were sickening.

The gaze of one pair of eyes was too much to bear for the Romulan woman - small, beady eyes set deep into a crude lumpy face, overshadowed by heavy, bushy brows. Saleen had never seen a creature as ugly as the green-skinned ape-like thing behind the bar, and prayed she would never see him again as his flabby tongue slid out and ran over his warty lips.

Arriving at the captain's quarters therefore came as something of a relief, but Saleen knew her ordeal was not about to end. Another elf, a woman midway in height between the captain and her subordinate, was waiting there for them, and the Romulan had to fight to supress another shudder as she caught sight of the coil of tightly-plaited leather hanging from the new elf's belt.

"The Captain's new toy", announced Brightsting, pushing the fearful Romulan towards the other elf.

"Oh - a Romulan!", exclaimed the female elf, her skin and hair a shade or so lighter than the Captain's. "I've dreamed of getting my hands on one of these..."

"This is Lieutenant Strikes-Like-The-Hawk", Brightsting told Saleen. "The Captain's slave-handler. Obey, and you'll be treated well. Disobey, and taste her whip."

Strikes-Like-The-Hawk changed suddenly, frighteningly. The cheerful, almost childlike manner was shed with the same ease and quickness as Saleen had been stripped of her uniform. "My Lord allows me to take any measures I see fit to make her slaves...pleasing. You will please her, slave, as you must please me."

Saleen was hurried inside, into a large chamber where the lights were low, and the air was heavy with a mixture of fragrances, both natural and synthetic. Three rooms branched off from here, two with firmly secured doors to either side, whilst the last, directly ahead, had but an empty arch for a doorway. Inside, the Romulan could see thick carpets, fur rugs, and a great circular bed, on which reclined another elf, a slender female with a magnificent mane of golden hair, dressed in a long nearly-transparent gown and the thigh-length glossy black boots of an Imperial uniform.

The girl on the bed rose as the slave was ushered in, and Saleen was forced down onto her knees before this radiant creature. "I am Dreamsong", declared the elfin beauty. "I am the Captain's Woman. When My Lord is not present, I am mistress here."

Saleen dared not look up. All she could see was the rug, Dreamsong's booted and high-heeled feet, and the elf's wonderful hair, which streamed down behind the boots and pooled on the floor behind her.

"I think she understands", snarled Strikes-Like-The-Hawk. "If not, she'll soon learn. You know how much Windweaver hates to use her talents to fix whip-scars..."