LIEUTENANT UHURA VS COUNCELOR TROI
Lt. Nyota Uhura & Deanna Troi of Star Trek
The floor was standard resulin - good for jogging, easy on the knees,
and forgiving of most impacts. It was the standard choice for the 16
pins as it would allow stand up fighters enough purchase to compete
against grapplers, and grapplers the opportunity to go to mat without
undue risk. The floor was a light blue mat and was part of the 16 pin
So were the shallow stands - wooden, austere, shrouded in darkness past
the first few rows. Lighting was dim, soft, casting long complacent
shadows throughout the holo-deck. An intimate setting, though somewhat
unforgiving. A place where winners and losers would be defined in terms
of one another: there could be no doubt, no excuses. "No doubts,"
thought Troi to herself. That was what this was all about of course -
that purity. She entered the gloom of the fighting floor and remembered
to breath as her opponent emerged from the shadows.
The computer had given Uhura period dress - a heavy black sports bra and
full coverage red trunks of a similar, thick material. She was supple
and heavy in the hooded overhead light, appraising Troi with those
exotic, dark eyes. The sleek chocolate muscle was smooth, in balance
with the generous curves and thick sensuality of Uhura's flesh. In her
light blue athletic two piece with strong, but nearly weight less
micro-fibre - Troi felt almost plain in comparison, almost inadequate,
though neither was the case. Yet this was Uhura, or at least a perfect
simalcrum of the woman in her prime. It was easy to see, just by looking
that the woman's reputation had been well deserved.
In the official annals of star fleet, the records, logs, and video
reflected the stories of Captains - important deeds, battle maneuvers,
decisions - but recorded in more private journals, tracing out a
submerged line of narrative known primarily among the women of the
fleet, the sweaty accomplishments of warriors like Uhura had lived on.
In countless battles with dozens of women, Uhura's name was synonomous
with competitive drive and physical supremacy. Surely Troi had not been
the only one to utilize the Uhura program. It was there, like an out of
the way book on some dusty top shelf, just waiting for those curious or
bold enough to take it down. But to face Uhura in the 16 pins, one
needed to know, really know, the answers. Troi had the need. All that
was left was to ask the questions.
The women shook out their arms, rolled their heads slowly to get out the
kinks. They bowed. In a clear voice, never taking her eyes off her
opponent, Troi said "computer recording." And with that, the competition
Uhura advanced confidently, her thighs jiggling as she planted and
stepped forward, hands raising restless and half clenched to her
eyebrows, then lowering to her chin - she was sinewy, thick and patient
in motion. Troi reckoned the Enterprise legend had pounds on her,
especially in the lower body, but she hoped this would translate into a
relative advantage in quickness for her as the bout progressed. The
councellor nimbly stepped to her left, hands low, trying to deflect the
angle of attack as Uhura cut off the floor.
Uhura was suprisingly light on her feet, turning suddenly into a right
round kick, spinning with the hint of a buttocks warble into the left
leg delivery and facing Troi once again as the curly headed brunette
blocked high and fell back. Troi was content to feel the strength and
snap of Uhura's limbs and was impressed: her forearms stung with the
effort of blocking the Nubian's cleanly expressed blows. Uhura's eyes
flashed as she turned her left shoulder towards Troi, lowering the lead
hand and cocking the right, edging towards the brunette with menace.
Troi braced herself and was not disappointed. Coming together, the girls
stabbed and turned, employing Earth's push hands technique while trying
to land a flat fist strike, and in the blur of punching and blocking -
Uhura scored a cracking right hand to the bridge of Troi's nose. Dazed
by the blow, Troi gasped, her head snapping back violently, and in that
instant - Uhura stepped in, took Deanna's right arm and deftly put her
hips into the brunette's stomach. The toss was perfect, laying Troi
painfully against the mat with a sharp smack in the otherwise silent
room. Uhura held the arm in a tight bar as she sat on her haunches at
Troi's head and let loose a high pitched cry. The first fall belonged to
Uhura. Troi let the dizziness pass as the Nubian rose, adjusting the
waistband of her trunks, and stepped across the fallen councellor as
though it had all been so easy.
It was the start of a disasterous beginning for Councellor Troi.
Uhura was deceptively graceful, walking Troi down and attacking low with
slapping kicks to the councellor's thighs, reddening the lead leg and
beginning a painful bruise with persistent hacking blows. Troi could not
stay outside and she couldn't trade blows - she had to take Uhura to
the mat. But time and again she found herself humbled by the dark girl's
suprising strength and fleshy quickness, born to her back and held down
as Uhura went through her progressions. A single leg over Deanna's head,
turning the councellor's face red, then the double, raising her backside
to the roof in trembling futility. The headlock with Uhura's slick
ribcage pushing hard underneath Deanna's chin. The cradle: Uhura's shiny
back against Troi's trembling belly, holding her down as muscular arms
folded the pale leg and clenched face. Throughout, the sound of Troi's
groans - high and strained - echoed in the hollow room as the mat
sounded out the plaintive slapping of her feet and helpless legs. As
pins were recorded, the emotionless female voice of the computer droned
out the score. 16 pins had seemed an impossible number at the start of
the exersise, but Uhura had scored 6 in just over 10 minutes of
struggle. Incredibly, the simulation could be over in 20 minutes. The
thought of being so abused sent a shudder down Troi's sweat streaked
body. "Time!" she cried. Uhura stopped her approach without expression
and stood up from her crouch.
Deanna, flushed and embarassed went to a small stand off the floor and
poured clear liquid from an elegant pitcher into a glass. She drained
the drink in a series of long swallows, arching her glistening neck and
feeling the wet weight of her ponytail upon her back. Uhura joined her
at the stand waiting with her hands on sturdy hips. Wiping her
fingertips across her lips she looked at Deanna.
"Well?" Uhura said.
"In a minute." Troi hadn't wanted to sound harried, but it just came out
that way. "Please." Uhura shrugged. She was just laying on a beating,
nothing out of her routine. Troi could have as long as she wanted. So
Uhura was totally relaxed when the Councellor dug her fist, still
holding the glass into Uhura's belly, feeling the line of
pleasure-flesh, but biting deep into the wall of serious muscle as well
to double the shocked black girl over. The computer hadn't seen it;
there was nothing in the councellor's psyche chart or past actualized
patterns to indicate she was capable of such unpredictability. Now Troi
went to work, straightening Uhura up with the left on the teeth, then
leaning in to crack the chin with a lusty right hand. Uhura's eyes went
glassy as she stumbled back, hands down - she couldn't recover. Troi
came forward behind shattering lefts and rights, backing Uhura to the
stands and toppling her backwards into the front row. Uhura stared
dumbly up, raising her head in a sick wobble, lips gleaming as they
began to swell, her legs heavy over the bench in front, her back
painfully against the second tier. Troi pounced - she couldn't let up -
and she pressed Uhura beneath her to the hard wood of the stands,
crushing the dazed face to her breast for a front sleeper. Uhura managed
a flailing tap against the wood and the haunting voice of the computer
announced the fall. In Uhura's unexpected collapse, Troi had found one
of the answers she had been seeking. When she had to, she had chosen
winning over everything else. She wondered briefly if the remorse would
The councellor pushed herself wetly up from her opponent and was shocked
to see Uhura blubbering, sitting up stiffly to clutch at her back. Troi
was breathing hard, surprised at her own fury and she took a moment to
catch her wind. Then, she reached for Uhura's heavy bra top and pulled
the Nubian roughly to her feet. Uhura groaned, stumbled, but complied,
getting awkwardly up as Troi tugged. Troi led her back out to the mat,
in control as the dark girl was still badly rattled and vulnerable. The
ball, as the terrans would say, was still in Troi's court.
With a subtle weight shift, Deanna drove her taut thigh up and into the
firm belly of the black girl, bending her over with a gurgle. Uhura's
hands reached lightly for Deanna's waist, while Deanna rode her right
arm across Uhura's shoulders. Troi methodically pulled Uhura upright,
revealing the tear stained cheeks and closed eyes to the lights before
putting the right thigh back into the girl's stomach. Uhura sobbed and
turned away, clutching her belly as she meandered across the mat. Troi
stalked from behind, snapping the bottoms of her briefs back into place,
then reaching roughly for Uhura's shoulders, holding her for a knee that
caught the red-clad buttock and bare hamstring with a beefy slap. Uhura
cried out and fell to one knee. She was human. Meat and bone. Troi made
a deliberate fist with the right hand, cocked it to her chest, then
punched Uhura viciously across the temple - the dark girl spilled to the
mat face first, then rolled groggily to her back, lashes fluttering
lazily as she relaxed. Troi took the opportunity to score a difficult
splits pin, sitting high on Uhura's chest, reaching down into the black
girl's hair to hold her steady while the computer droned out it's
report. Troi looked down at the stunned, blank expression of her victim
and bit her lip.
Keep up the pressure, Troi told herself. She rose heavily from Uhura as
the black girl lay supine on her back, head lolling gently from side to
side, hands helpless at her chest. She was hurting. It was Troi's job to
keep her that way.
Uhura looked sleepy, pained. Her mouth worked for air as she staggered
forwards. Troi waited as the black girl stumbled close, hands
outstretched to grab Deanna's bare shoulders, then she lifted her right
leg in a sweeping motion from the floor, sinking the bare foot with a
snug 'shump' in between Uhura's pudgy thighs. A piteous, exhausted wail
escaped from Uhura's lips as she crumpled to her hands and knees,
shaking in pain as Troi circled casually, a leopardess considered a
crippled toy as she licked salt from her upper lip.
It was a careful balance, a fragile thing that had to be maintained, to
win the 16 pins. For Troi's part, she had to stay on her girl, pound
Uhura, keep her dazed and hurting, but she had to be ever wary of
exhaustion herself. Many of the required techniques allowed the victim
to rest, and when Troi had captured Uhura on her back with the jujitsu
arm lock, she knew the black girl had tapped out early rather than delay
the inevitable. Uhura was in a battered stupor, unable to mount any
offense, but she wasn't finished. She could still think. Still make
little decisions that might pay off later. Troi had to let her fight a
little, even risk that Uhura could come back, to draw the resiliency out
of the victim. It was a careful balance, and a very hard thing to manage
against as crafty and willful a creature as Uhura.
The black girl sobbed quietly on her hands and knees, hair damp around
her face, sweat dripping to the mat from her snivelling nose. Troi came
in hard from the side and drove her arm into the girl's hip, laying the
bicep and forearm in between the legs and driving Uhura to her belly
with the jolt. Working deliberately, Troi straddled her prey, facing the
buttocks and wearily pounded away at the glossy kidney region, her arms
trembling with the effort of pumping up and down, bashing the sides of
her fists into the small of Uhura's back. She felt Uhura shuddering
beneath her, and leaned forward, pressing her cool palms against the
battered section of body, pinning Uhura's belly to the mat. The computer
announced the victory, and Troi sat back, brushing a forelock out of her
eyes and exhaling through her mouth. Even at last.
Troi stood and worked to roll Uhura to her back. The Nubian was
shuddering with pain and it was uncontested, if heavy lifting.
Wishboning Uhura's legs, Troi held the firm stems by the ankles and
squished her knee against the moist damp of Uhura's crotch. The black
girl lay with hands at her ears, groaning mindlessly, eyes clenched shut
in swoon. "Wishbone crotch pin." The computer said, as Troi took the
Troi let the legs drop heavily, stood and adjusted her ponytail. Uhura
rolled to her side, hands between her legs, lips working wet against the
mat as she tried to gather herself. A computerized charm sounded, and
Troi felt the hackles on the back of her neck rise. It was a mandatory
drink break. She had forgotten about these, but then, she had never
worked on a woman long enough to get one. Sense crept back in as Uhura's
eyes flickered open. Hope. But not if Troi could help it.
Troi stood next to Uhura at the drink stand. The councellor was anxious
to continue, having quaffed and finished her refresher in an angry bolt.
Uhura drank slowly, using both hands, closing her eyes and rubbing the
cool surface of the glass against her puffy face. Troi's fists had done
big woman's work on Uhura's cheek bones and eyebrows. Another surprise,
another answer found.
"Hurry." Troi couldn't contain herself. Uhura was stalling.
Uhura glared, the hatred now fully replacing the cool detachment with
which she had begun the match. Rarely had the Enterprise champion been
so cruelly used, and she ached to pay Troi back. But she was still weak.
The draught was a mix of anticoagulants, electolytes and stimulants, but
was rarely sufficient to compensate for a thorough beating on it's own.
"I gave you time." Uhura whispered.
"I'm not you." Troi replied. Insolent, Uhura continued her slow
progress, winning the victories she could. Troi had never known herself
to be cruel, but she had had to be to overcome Uhura's physicallity. She
had never known herself to be petty, but the outrageous conduct of her
opponent during this endless break was maddening. Finally Uhura put the
glass on the stand, wiped her lips and returned to the mat, Troi walking
in step and staying close, waiting for the chime. When it came, she
didn't panic, but she acted quickly and decisively, to the head of Lt.
Uhura where so much damage had already been done.
At the bell, Uhura had tried for a right hand, but Troi had anticipated,
blocked, cradled Uhura in her the crook of her left, and hammered the
short right into the girl's forehead in one sleek motion. Uhura was
taking again, and Troi continued where she had left off.
Holding Uhura close, Troi was able to plow her right hand, hard and flat
in between the girl's eyes, and the black girl's legs began to wander as
she slipped once again into a drowse. The beating continued in a random
path around the mat - Troi working steadily, always close to her foe,
holding her, propping her then hurting her. From behind, Troi held
Uhura's hips the better to knee her hams and buttocks. She would pull
Uhura around by the waistband of her trunks, using the leverage to aid
in her blunt attacks. From in front, she would hold Uhura's shoulder and
drive a curling right hand into the pit of the black girl's stomach,
scooping Uhura into her waiting arms to prevent her from going down too
soon. Pins mounted up as Troi got back the double leg and the cradle.
Uhura was beaten senseless and simply couldn't come back. She would take
her medicine in slack jawed silence, moaning or crying out when
particularly savaged. It was all Councellor Troi. Her hands were raw and
sore with the handling and punishing of her foe in these long minutes.
Uhura sat between Troi's thighs, arms across Deanna's legs and pudging
out at the bicep. She flickered in and out as Troi beat her. Deanna sat
on the front row of the stands and worked down on her opponent, holding
Uhura across the chest with the left while hammering down with the right
hand to the head or jaw of the battered girl. Finally, she pulled Uhura
back and applied the sleeper around her swollen face. Dimly, Uhura
groaned and tapped at the air before she could be rendered unconscious.
Troi released the hold as the computer made it's eerie report. Uhura lay
between the thighs, exhausted, used up. Troi was edging closer to
Troi bundled Uhura's deadweight to the center of the mat, straightening
the black girl's legs and drawing her arms to her sides. The last few
pins where dangerous. An opponent not properly prepared could counter
easily and effectively, but Uhura looked spent, and Troi worked quickly
and efficiently to finish. Sitting on the black girl's hips, facing the
legs, Troi leaned forward and spread her palms across Uhura's dense
thighs, pinning the legs to the mat. With her weight forward, Troi was
ill prepared for Uhura's desperate counter - a scissor about the waist
that she had waited fifteen minutes to employ. With a cry, Troi fell
forward and was held fast, Uhura worked with her hands to keep the
councellor's legs apart, and the crushing reputation of Uhura's legs
began to tell. Troi groaned, her hands reaching across the mat, but the
force was irresistable. Tapping quickly, she felt the pressure at her
back and sides relent, but Uhura had gotten her beach head. Deanna on
her stomach was in no position to counter, and there was more fight left
in Uhura than the councellor could have imagined.
Uhura relied upon her legs to get back into the game. She held Troi down
to the mat, grinding the waist, scissoring up the head, choking and
punishing Troi with one excrutiating variation after another. Troi had
considered herself the master of ground techniques, but she could not
reverse on Uhura. The strength of those curvy, dusky limbs was mind
boggling and as the advantage slipped away, Deanna began to panic. Uhura
began to wrack up pins, and wear down her opponent. From her back, Troi
couldn't stop Uhura's stomach from pinning her as the dark girl lay atop
for points, resting her head against Deanna's stomach, cinching up the
trunks for assurance. Troi began to lose her focus, get groggy as her
cheeks and mouth distorted between the painful vice of Uhura's gripping
legs. And Uhura's head had cleared. It was time to go to work.
Uhura pushed a blubbering Troi to a seated position from behind, then
clamped on a meanspirited bearhug about the breasts. Uhura let her
strength play out against Deanna, using her arms and legs to squeeze and
trap the tortured councellor. Troi lolled her head against Uhura's
shoulder and let out a lonely moan, filling the room as Uhura smiled,
listening as she would at the opera. When the body was limp, Uhura began
the pounding that had almost always led to victory in the past. It was
the final question that Troi had to answer. Could she take it?
Where Troi had been specific, precise, Uhura was brutal. Her punches to
the head dropped Troi to her back, whereas Uhura had only been
staggered. She held Troi like a captive in her lap, pounding at the
girl's kidneys, rolling her over to pummel stomach, working her over
with machine like detail. Uhura would spend several minutes on one limb
- say, the left leg - beating and bludgeoning it until Troi held it limp
in her hands, weeping for mercy she knew would not be forthcoming. Uhura
stood above her seated opponent, stomping down on the inner left thigh,
and glorying in Troi's abject pleas. The wishbone crotch pin brought a
crooked grin to Uhura's face as Troi writhed on her back. Slowly, the
Nubian began to even the score.
It was the awful beating of Troi's back that left her helpless. Uhura
trembled on sexy knock-knees as she held the battered councellor high up
on her shoulder, grinding away at the spine as Troi moaned. The body
slams to the mat were sickening displays of power - Uhura driving her
foe's back to the flat surface and standing in glory as Troi lay with
knees flexed to her stomach, face pinched in pain. Uhura followed up
these dreadful moves with heavy thigh drops across Troi's heaving chest,
or measured fists dropped to the head that sat the brunette drunkenly up
on recoil. But it was the back breaker over the knee that did the most
damage. Uhura drew out the manuever such that Troi surely must have
known what was coming, and when her kidneys crashed upon the
outstretched length of Uhura's knee, Troi made a whimpering, broken
sound as Uhura revelled. The black girl shrugged Deanna to the mat and
bellowed to the empty room as if a thousand spectators roared. Troi lay
half on her side, right hand reaching reflexively to her back. She was
finished. Uhura straightened out the bent legs, put Troi to her back and
sat heavily upon her hips. With total concentration, Uhura spread her
hands upon Troi's thighs and held the brunette's legs down as though
they had any choice. The final pin was hers, and a weary smile finally
cracked that tired visage. The image of Uhura slowly faded, soon joined
by the wooden stands, and the blue mat, leaving Deanna Troi alone, on
her back, on the cold holodeck steel floor.
And that was how they found her. When she came to, the women on board
knew, but Picard and Riker - they had their questions. They were the
wrong questions of course, so Deanna didn't answer. All the important
questions had been asked, and answered, by Uhura.
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Uhura versus Rand
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