Another World

By Christine Collins

He couldn't have turned down the dubious offering had he wanted to. By accepting the gift quietly and with as much dignity as he had managed to muster - and by the ancient gods of Cardassia, it had _not_ been easy! - he had undoubtedly saved himself an endless and most embarrassing discussion of his sexual habits and preferences. Of course, there was nothing unusual or embarrassing about his sex life as such, yet he most certainly did not desire to discuss it with a group of outwardly polite, but inwardly - of that he was quite sure - sneering Bajorans.

Thus Gul Damar reasoned while taking a firm stance - feet planted wide apart on the carepeted floor, hands clasped behind his back - between the door and the bed on which the strange alien creature was lying, sensuously sprawled across the sheets and studying him with unnaturally large eyes whose colour ironically matched the colour of his own.   The creature's minder had discreetly vanished and left his charge in the hands of the high-ranking Cardassian. They were alone, Gul Damar and the ...the... well,   whatever it was.

_She_, Damar corrected himself immediately; the 'thing' on his bed was quite obviously a she. A lowly prostitute, like so many others who'd quickly adapted to the new situation and had come to Terok Nor to make a living from the Cardassian soldiers that now were stationed here. Just like in the old days! The thought came to Damar's mind, and his lips involuntary curved in an ever so thin smile. The Federation had  packed up and run away only a couple of weeks ago, and the Bajorans were already returning to their old ways of prostitution and depravity! Quite evidently, this race was so inferior to his own that it needed constant guidance and supervision, yet at the same time reacted with primitive violence and aggression to any attempt to provide for these needs. Bajorans were in many ways like animals. Damar had heard this many times before, but never had it seemed quite as appropriate as then, as he was gazing at the creature.

He had never had... In his mind, Damar stopped to look for a fitting expression. He'd never had ... _an encounter_ with a Bajoran before. This had nothing to do with a lack of opportunity - there were _always_ opportunities for Gul Dukat's adjutant! - or with a lack of interest in the subject in general, or, Damar had to admit, with the fact that he was a married man. Using the services of a Bajoran for a night or two was no more a threat to his marriage than a discreet visit to a holosuite, simply because, in Damar's Cardassian thinking, a Bajoran female wasn't any more a real woman than a holographic image. She had a body but no soul - which was the actual reason why Damar was so embarrassingly inexperienced in that aspect. He much preferred real women to wild animals. 

In his innocent arrogance, Damar had always held the firm belief that he was worth the affection and attention of another Cardassian. At all times. And especially in bed. At the same time, many of his fellow officers had no such reservations, and  Damar had been told on numerous occasions that Bajorans, with their suffienciently strong and resilient bodies and their naturally wild and defiant minds, made entertaining companions between the sheets.  Well, now was the moment to put this theory to the test. Damar took a long stride in the general direction of the bed.  _His_ bed.

Of course, he resoned even while he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, this particular Bajoran was quite obviously different from any other he'd ever seen. In fact, if it hadsn't been for the unmistakable ruffles on the bridge of her nose she could have easily passed for a different race altogether. A skin disorder,  her minder - a middle-aged man named Nagar Rul whom Damar had found instantly repellant -  had explained with a subservient bow and an apologetic smile. Oh no, nothing catching; there was no need for concern. Something hereditary. Something completely harmless. Something that made the girl - the man had actually called her by her name at that point but Damar, usually a very perceptive person, had been so distracted by the creature's appearance that the name had somehow escaped from his memory - a unique treasure. Unique she certainly was, Damar had to admit, as she was lying there on her back on top of the bed.

Nia had become tired of looking at her client; one single look had told her all there was to know about Damar. A Cardassian officer in his early middle years; a little too young maybe for the position of responsibility he was holding. Oh yes, being the pet of Cardassia's leading man evidently paid off! Men like Damar - loyal and subservient to their superiors - often had a cruel streak in bed, Nia knew only too well. Mere yes-men during day time, they took out their frustration on those who could not fight back. In all likelihood, Damar was one of them. He seemed so tense and troubled by his situation - ready to strike and lash out to relieve his own suffering. Ah well. So he'd strike her. So he'd hurt her. What did it matter? She would survive. Nia was always prepared for the worst, yet at the same time almost comfortably aware that she had no powers to avert it. Her powerlessness was the source of her inner peace. As there was little left for her to do, she diverted her attention from Damar's bland Cardassian features to her own painted fingernails and shifted a little to get a better look at them.

As she shifted, the patterns on her skin seemed to move with her. Damar was so startled that he stopped in mid-motion for a second before finishing the journey through his quarters by taking one more stride. Admittedly, this was amazing! He'd never seen anything quite like it. His first impression of the girl had been that she was dressed in an outrageously cut,  brightly coloured skin-tight body suit that also covered her neck, head and face and only left her deep blue eyes, her full lips and her rosy nipples free. Then she had moved and the effect had been as drastic as just then, leaving him with the realisation that she was wearing no clothes and that the bright colours and patterns had been crafted onto her skin by some alien artist. Damar knew that such effect was impossible to achieve by the use of simple paint and could only be accomplished by injecting coloured ink into the individual's epidermis - a slow and, he assumed, in certain places of the body painful process, which nevertheless had been part of the culture of many smooth- skinned races like the Bajorans and Humans for thousands of years. He'd seen examples of such art before - but never, _ever_ anything just like this! Almost every inch of the girl's body, even her delicate eyelids, had been decorated in that strange, alien fashion.

"It's not paint. It's part of me."
She'd spoken without even bothering to look up. Her voice was bright, almost musical. Damar was standing over her, noticing with idle satisfaction  how tall and bulky he was in comparison to her lithe naked body. "I'm aware of that," he said brusquely. He wanted to ask her a question, but then shut his mouth again, to choose his words before he spoke, taking extra care not to say something silly that would embarrass him in front of the Bajoran girl. She gave a little nod, still inspecting her fingernail.
"Everyone asks me about it," she said matter-of-factly and without showing any sign of respect. "Go ahead. Ask."

Damar felt a sudden bolt of irritation at her apparent indifference and seemingly condescending manner. She was about to lazily stretch her legs when he with a sudden, powerful motion grabbed her shoulders and forced her into a sitting position.

"I don't feel like asking you questions," he said curtly. Then, "When I address you, you will look me in the eyes. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir", she replied with such readiness that Damar was unsure if the words had been spoken in irony. Although she'd followed his request immediately, her deep eyes held no answer.  Looking into them, he could think of nothing to say except, "Very good."

Her skin felt warm, almost hot in comparison to Cardassian skin. The idea of holding her body against his own to satisfy his own ever-present longing for warmth seemed pleasant enough all of a sudden, as his hand touched the bright blues, reds and greens of her shoulder; he was half expecting to feel rough scabs and sores where the ink had been injected - but thankfully there was nothing too unpleasant to touch; just colours and shapes on what was otherwise perfectly natural skin by Bajoran standards. Damar noticed the complete absence of hair on the girl; not only was her entire body hairless, but her head, too, had been shaven, which added to the sheer outlandishness of her appearence. He   looked closer, curious whether there were pictures of actual objects, animals or people hidden among the patterns, as was often the case in this strange barbaric art, but he could see nothing but colours and black outlines of patterns and shapes. The harder he looked, the brighter the colours seemed to become. Then, suddenly, the outlines seemed to shift and change and...

Damar blinked and vigorously shook his head to clear his thoughts. It had been a long, hard day, as usual. The initial feeling of triumph and exhilaration after reclaiming the station two weeks ago had passed almost instantly when it had turned out that not taking, but  holding on to the prize posed the actual problem. Damar was nothing like his commanding officer and mentor Dukat who would sometimes seek out and take up a challenge just for the sake of it, and, if he could find none that held his interest, all to often went and created one himself: Damar detested problems. He wasn't happy until all his problems were solved and life, all its riddles and mysteries uncovered,  lay clear and simple before him. The intricate web that Dukat had woven between Cardassia, the Federation and the Dominion had caused Damar many long, hard days and sleepless nights, and what bothered him the most was that there was no end in sight to his ordeal.

He took his gaze off the girl's skin and focused his attention back on her velvety eyes instead. So deep. So blue. So... so cold. Like lakes that a man could drown his problems and sorrows in. Or drown in, for that matter, if he wasn't careful. With the constant stress of the past few weeks had come the need to escape from it. Endless hours of drinking at Quark's did a lot to ease the tension that had become part of his life, but sex was even better, as he'd soon found out: less of a hazard to his work and more discreet. Meaningless, loveless sex in the holosuites; sex that was barely more than masturbation, with no feelings to consider but his own. Yes, Damar thought, a visit to the holosuites would have sufficed tonight, after the drinks he'd already had. But there he was, and there the odd-looking Bajoran girl was, and he'd be damned if he didn't get full satisfaction out of her, as her minder had promised him. Vaguely aroused by her warmth, he pulled her to her feet, mumbling "Come here, girl" as he did so, still unable to recall her name.

His grip hurt a little, but Nia couldn't quite hold back a smile. This one really didn't waste much time talking! How unusual for his race. She'd lost count of how many nights she'd spent in ice cold, merciless Cardassian arms, spared no lecture as she set about doing her job, forced to listen to insults while enduring the physical pain until finally the man who was holding her would fall prey to Rul's work. 

Damar gripped her waist and pulled her close, rubbing his growing erection against her hot belly. Then he ran a hand upwards, briefly cupping a breast in it and squeezing it lightly, as if inspecting the new toy that he'd been given. Satisfied, his hand trailed further up, fleetingly playing over the smooth, pulsating skin that stretched over the girl's neck where in a real, Cardassian, woman a prominent pulsating ridge would have been; then he captured her chin, lifted it up and, without warning, swooped down to thrust his tongue between her painted lips and ivory teeth and deep into heat and wetness that were like a foreboding of pleasures yet to come. Oh yes, this was a woman all right. Not a Cardassian, but real all the same; much more so than what even the most responsive holosuite programme could offer. Maybe this night was going to be a night to remember, after all! She skilfully responded by sucking his tongue into her, even more deply, while at the same time sliding her own slender fingers into Damar's trousers. So familiar was the little whore with Cardassian uniforms, Damar noted with an equal measure of amusement and contempt, that within seconds she'd opened the fastenings, pulled down trousers and underwear and captured his now fully erect sex the moment it was freed from its confines.

With a soft moan he'd withdrawn from her mouth moments ago and now stood, lips still slightly parted after the deep kiss. His eyes were shut as he tried to imagine she was Cardassian, and his lashes twitched in anticipation as she went down on her knees in front of him. Then her moist lips closed softly around the head of his cock.

However, his eyes didn't remain shut for long; she was Bajoran, after all. How could he, Gul Damar, ever trust a Bajoran? He could not.

The girl couldn't have possibly carried a weapon of any kind, and in addition had been subjected to routine scans before being allowed into his quarters, yet Damar was unable to shake off the deeply rooted felling of mistrust that he held for the other's race. And so, through a haze of arousal, he forced his eyes open to look down at her eager, shaven head and watch it bob up and down in that age-old rhythm of pleasure. And as he was doing this - watching her pleasure him while he held on to his senses, never ever allowing himself to give in completely - he saw again what he thought he'd seen before.

Only this time he was sure that he'd seen it. Nothing definite at first - a mere shifting of the colours and lines on the girl's scalp, on her fingers and the back of her hands. As before, he blinked. Then he looked again, tilting his head a little to the side to puzzle over the mystery. Yes. Where he could have sworn there'd been abstract patterns only moments ago, there were now little people and strange-looking animals. So detailed and realistic were their features that Damar was surprised he hadn't noticed this when scrutinising the girl's skin earlier on. Some of the animals he recognised as indigenous Bajoran species, and the little men and women, too, were instantly identifiable as Bajorans by their ruffled noses and smooth skin. Damar's next thought was that they were all naked and engaged in all kinds of sexual activities. Men, women, boys and girls - some mere children as Damar noted with disgust - were lying together with a number of non- humanoid creatures in a never-ending tangle of limbs. A young, dark-skinned woman with long, braided hair was cowering on all fours, pure rapture on her face as a  man thrust into her from behind. The same man, in turn, was simultaneously being fucked by another, and the trio being watched by a nude blonde girl in whose lap lay the head of a large, dog-like creature, its deep red tongue licking eagerly at her genitals; the creature, again, was being topped by a man, the man fingerfucked by a woman, the woman kissed and worshipped by another... Damar's next realisation was that this was not just a painting on living canvas; that he would have been able to grasp, but the most astonishing thing was that the ludicrous little creatures were _alive_: They moved about, absurdly engrossed in their hedonistic ways; Damar saw limbs thrashing about in ecstasy, tongues darting in and out of all kinds of orifices, genitals bobbing and jerking and faces distorting in forbidden bliss. All this, and much more, seemed to be happening on the shaven head of the strange girl as she pleasured Damar with her lips, tongue and teeth, the way only a whore could do. Damar, for another half minute, continued telling himself that what he saw was no more than an intricate illusion; then the strange happenings no longer surprised him as he became used to them and his surroundings began to merge with the little world on the girl's body.

"What.... what is happening...?" he asked, feeling that, in view of the strange goings-on he ought to at least ask a question.
"Psst..." came the soft, soothing reply that he'd expected. "Everything's all right, Gul Damar. Don't worry. Give in..."

A man was kneeling on the floor, straddling a woman who lay bound and beaten underneath him and shoving his almost impossibly long member down her throat. Damar's immediate response was to feel pity for the victim, yet as he looked on, there was nothing but pleasure on her bloodied face. Somewhat appalled Damar averted his eyes to look at her rapist . The man met his gaze thoughtfully; then, while still thrusting into the woman's mouth, he lifted a hand to beckon Damar closer, inviting him to join the orgy, before resuming his brutalities by slapping the woman hard across the face.

"What...?" Damar asked again,  both appalled at and intrigued by the prospect, but once again found that he really had little choice: Looking down at himself, he saw that he'd, without being aware of it, already made up his mind. Up and down the girl's shaven head went on him, bringing him closer to ecstasy with every stroke, while the little people on her skin without ever pausing in their doings, one by one became aware of him and invited him, with words, gestures or looks,  to join them. Damar was flying high, high as a kite, on his own sexuality and lust; there was no way back as he climaxed, emptying himself into the strange-looking girl, then falling again,   threatening to drown in a sea of limbs and tongues and genitals, curiously prodded and groped by inquiring Bajoran fingers, nuzzled by strange creatures and laughed at until it all began afresh and he felt himself rising again, and flying high... Nia smiled with triumph even as she swallowed the gush of semen that filled her mouth, thus spilling some onto the floor.

Gul Damar was asleep now, dreaming sweetly of pleasures and sins; a dream that he would never forget.  Nia's skills were such that no-one ever forgot. Coldly, she looked down at the Cardassian's half-naked body. He'd sunk back onto the bed and now lay there, almost lifeless except for his eyelids that kept twitching restlessly.  Nia was still smiling as she searched Damar's quarters for valuables and anything that might be used by the newly formed resistance cell against the Cardassian-Dominion occupation. She found some jewellery that the gul apparently had intended to give to his wife or another female member of his family as a present, some coins and a padd that no doubt Rul would find a way to access. Rul would be pleased. He would be happy, and when Rul was happy, so was Nia.

She belonged to him. She owed his life to him, after all. It had been Rul who had found her after the blast. She had been twelve, a child of the streets, when the Cardassians had attacked the city as a retaliation for terrorist activity. A homeless orphan and a thief, she'd slept in the basement of some deserted factory building that night, and had gotten buried in the rubble. Miraculously, she'd survived, but having been exposed  to certain toxic substances for hours, her beauty had been destroyed for good by chemical burns. When Rul had found her, her hair had fallen out and her entire skin was in blisters which healed eventually but left her disfigured for life. Rul, a member of the former D'jarra of artists and a pimp, had picked up the pieces that once had been her and had made a new being out of her with his needles and his ink. Less than a year after the accident she had emerged: Precious Nia, Rul's extravagant creation; a whore, true, but better than all other whores of Bajor. She'd never again had to sleep in the streets, she'd never had to go without food again, and not a day went by when she didn't praise Rul for his kindness and for the magic he'd worked on her body.  Rul was her destiny, her life, her one and only love. So absolute were her feelings for him that she had none left for any other being, not even for herself. 

Coldly she looked down at Damar's sleeping figure. His mind was still caught in the web of pleasure that she had conjured up for him. Asleep he was, but no longer peacefully: Sprawled out defencelessly on his back, his greyish-purple semi-erect sex utterly vulnerable and exposed, semen drying on his belly, his eyelids twitching, his fingers clawing into the sheet beneath his heavy body, there was sweat on his forehead, and deep groans of pleasure and pain came from his parted lips in intervals. He was pitiful, Nia decided  He was disgusting, like all the other men she'd been with. All except Rul, of course. Clutching her loot to her chest, she sat down on the edge of the bed and continued to watch her victim in silence, waiting, and from time to time thanking the Prophets for her fate. With no passion left inside her except for her master, she felt strong and invincible when eventually the transporter beam engulfed her naked body and dissolved it, taking it far away from the sleeping Cardassian who lay almost equally naked and drugged on passion and sin.

The anger and shame that Gul Damar felt when he awoke and noticed the absence of the whore and the valuables was aggravated by the fact that he couldn't really explain what had happened. The girl's bizarre appearance, the visions of living creatures on her skin, the unlikely and embarrassing fact that he seemed to have either fallen asleep or lost consciousness during lovemaking, and the alarming dreams that he'd had since then and that wouldn't go away... All that simply did not fit into Damar's world. He didn't want it, and in his anger he decided to find the girl that had inflicted it on him, and to make her pay. 

It wasn't until five days later that Damar's wish was fulfilled and he was notified that the girl as well as her pimp had been found and imprisoned. The valuables were never recovered, and neither was the datapadd. Attempted espionage was a serious offence under Dominion law, and while Nia and Rul were awaiting their execution in the confines of their prison cells, separated for the first and last time in twenty years by a wall of steel and a forcefield, Gul Damar sullenly sat in Quark's establishment, making the Ferengi pour him glass after glass of  kanar. The golden liquid, he thought idly just as Nia's and Rul's lives ended, was as sweet as the pain that the creatures and people on the girl's skin had inflicted on him ... no, _would_ have inflicted on him, had they existed.... He threw back his painful head, covering his tired eyes with his hand for a brief moment - and instantly felt the intrusive scrutiny of the other customers on him. Curse her! Curse the girl, and curse _all_ Bajorans! In helpless confusion, Gul Damar slammed down the empty glass on the bar, demanding another drink.

- the end -