Judgement – Skin Deep
by Commander Isha t'Vaurek
Post Details
Isha sealed the door of the borrowed office and leaned her back against it. She touched her fingertips to her swollen face, her cheek tender and her lip split and bleeding. She stared into the room, her eyes unfocussed as she drew several deep breaths and slid down to the floor. She was not safe anywhere unless she chose to surround herself with guards or make herself a prisoner in her own Consulate.
Her whole body ached. Isha had not made it easy for Getal and she was left with the burn of strained muscles, and throb of bruising from the pressure he had applied to quash her resistance and to keep her down while he cut her. The pain of that wound was as sickening to Isha as the knowledge that once again she had been unable to prevent the Cardassian from subjecting her to his abuse.
Isha closed her eyes as she pulled up her bloodstained skirt and parted her legs, she had to look at some point and see what he had done to her. Starting a few centimetres below her crotch on the soft skin of her inner thigh he had incised what might be words in her flesh. It was difficult to tell as her skin, usually soft and the palest green was now dark and swollen where he had cut into her, deep incisions oozing fluid that was beginning to congeal around the edges of the wounds.
kriheis'ei faelirh ch'susse-thrai she swore, trembling with fury as she looked at the damage he had inflicted on her. He had branded her like a slave.
Isha was not a sadistic woman. She believed that vengeance, if required should be swift, decisive, and delivered by a proxy, but not this time. She was going to do everything in her power to ensure that Getal died slowly, and if Isha could engineer it, by her hand.
“I'm not going to tell you what it means.” that’s what he had told her.
It meant that the bastard who had forced his way into her territory, into her mind, into her body was not content with that, it meant that he wanted her to know that she could never escape him.
It meant that Isha had made a mistake. Getal’s attacks, though they had seemed spontaneous had been carefully timed and structured, a calculated program of abuse, with each new outrage a little worse than the last, and each executed just as she had had time to rebuild herself after the last one but before her defences were solid. Then he knocked her apart again, and each time she rebuilt she was weaker and less able to withstand him.
Oh, it was not subtle, but subtlety would never have worked with Isha, that was her favoured weapon and she knew how to turn it. Getal must have recognised that. Isha had not until now appreciated that he had gleaned such a fine and thorough understanding of her psyche and used that knowledge to damage her far more than simple violence would have done. She had to admire the skill with which he had played her; it was manipulation at its finest.
It meant that she, lhhei hru'hfirh Isha e-Khellian i’Ramnau t’Illialhlae, Ambassador, Senator, Admiral of the Third Imperial Fleet, Commander in Chief of one of the most ancient and extensive private armies on ch’Rihan, her Embassy and both her Houses were dangerously compromised. She had fallen under the shadow of another sovereign power in the guise of one overbearing Cardassian and no matter how much she wanted to deny it, Getal had his hand around her throat and she was powerless to stop him from squeezing.
It meant most of all that he still considered her to be a threat.
Her bloody skirt stuck to her leg as Isha got up from the floor, already unsteady from loss of blood it was difficult to walk as each step caused the wound to rub smearing fresh blood between her thighs. She made her way to the little washroom attached to the office.
As she ran water into the sink Isha removed her skirt, letting the ruined garment fall to the floor. She bit her lower lip as she raised her leg, taking care not to stretch her damaged flesh any more than she had to as she rested her toes on the edge of the sink for support. Then she began to wash the blood away, the relieving cool of the water on her skin tempered by its cruel sting as it cleansed the wound. Eventually, she took one of the folded hand towels that stood in a neat stack on the shelf wincing as she gently patted herself dry.
Then she flung open the cabinet doors looking for the emergency medkit that she was certain the Federation would have thought to equip their offices with. Isha grabbed it then knelt on the tiles as she tipped the contents onto the floor.
The first thing she took was the pre-loaded hypospray. She read the label, some form of generic painkiller, she didn’t care what, then emptied it straight into her leg. There was a dermal regenerator, but one of limited capacity, designed for the fast treatment of minor abrasions. No matter, it was enough to treat her face so that she could get back to her suite without anyone knowing she had been beaten. Back there she had a more powerful one, one that Chelsea had left with her after Getal’s last assault.
As she crudely bound the wound Isha reflected that if t’Merek had not found her after Getal had raped her she would have crawled away and fixed herself up as best she could. There would have been no doctor, no witnesses and she would have told no-one. At least this time she was alone, and would not have to deal with the added humiliation of friends and staff knowing what he had done to her.
Taking the regenerator she got to her feet, watching in the looking glass as the swelling faded and her skin lightened as she applied the tool to her face. On the surface at least she returned to normal although as she gently pressed the renewed skin her cheek it was still so tender that Isha thought he may have fractured the bone beneath.
When she got back to her Embassy Isha would remove the cuts on her leg too and on the surface it would be as if this had never happened.
Some might argue that it made the whole exercise pointless, that Getal had wasted his time, but Isha understood the point that he was making. Even when the physical evidence of her subjugation was gone and her skin restored she would never be able to erase the memory of what he had done.
by Commander Isha t'Vaurek
Post Details
| Title | Skin Deep | |
| Mission | Judgement | |
| Author(s) | Commander Isha t'Vaurek | |
| Posted | Sun May 15, 2011 @ 3:41pm | |
| Location | Deck 56. Court Complex. | |
| Timeline | SD37 15:30 |
Her whole body ached. Isha had not made it easy for Getal and she was left with the burn of strained muscles, and throb of bruising from the pressure he had applied to quash her resistance and to keep her down while he cut her. The pain of that wound was as sickening to Isha as the knowledge that once again she had been unable to prevent the Cardassian from subjecting her to his abuse.
Isha closed her eyes as she pulled up her bloodstained skirt and parted her legs, she had to look at some point and see what he had done to her. Starting a few centimetres below her crotch on the soft skin of her inner thigh he had incised what might be words in her flesh. It was difficult to tell as her skin, usually soft and the palest green was now dark and swollen where he had cut into her, deep incisions oozing fluid that was beginning to congeal around the edges of the wounds.
kriheis'ei faelirh ch'susse-thrai she swore, trembling with fury as she looked at the damage he had inflicted on her. He had branded her like a slave.
Isha was not a sadistic woman. She believed that vengeance, if required should be swift, decisive, and delivered by a proxy, but not this time. She was going to do everything in her power to ensure that Getal died slowly, and if Isha could engineer it, by her hand.
“I'm not going to tell you what it means.” that’s what he had told her.
It meant that the bastard who had forced his way into her territory, into her mind, into her body was not content with that, it meant that he wanted her to know that she could never escape him.
It meant that Isha had made a mistake. Getal’s attacks, though they had seemed spontaneous had been carefully timed and structured, a calculated program of abuse, with each new outrage a little worse than the last, and each executed just as she had had time to rebuild herself after the last one but before her defences were solid. Then he knocked her apart again, and each time she rebuilt she was weaker and less able to withstand him.
Oh, it was not subtle, but subtlety would never have worked with Isha, that was her favoured weapon and she knew how to turn it. Getal must have recognised that. Isha had not until now appreciated that he had gleaned such a fine and thorough understanding of her psyche and used that knowledge to damage her far more than simple violence would have done. She had to admire the skill with which he had played her; it was manipulation at its finest.
It meant that she, lhhei hru'hfirh Isha e-Khellian i’Ramnau t’Illialhlae, Ambassador, Senator, Admiral of the Third Imperial Fleet, Commander in Chief of one of the most ancient and extensive private armies on ch’Rihan, her Embassy and both her Houses were dangerously compromised. She had fallen under the shadow of another sovereign power in the guise of one overbearing Cardassian and no matter how much she wanted to deny it, Getal had his hand around her throat and she was powerless to stop him from squeezing.
It meant most of all that he still considered her to be a threat.
Her bloody skirt stuck to her leg as Isha got up from the floor, already unsteady from loss of blood it was difficult to walk as each step caused the wound to rub smearing fresh blood between her thighs. She made her way to the little washroom attached to the office.
As she ran water into the sink Isha removed her skirt, letting the ruined garment fall to the floor. She bit her lower lip as she raised her leg, taking care not to stretch her damaged flesh any more than she had to as she rested her toes on the edge of the sink for support. Then she began to wash the blood away, the relieving cool of the water on her skin tempered by its cruel sting as it cleansed the wound. Eventually, she took one of the folded hand towels that stood in a neat stack on the shelf wincing as she gently patted herself dry.
Then she flung open the cabinet doors looking for the emergency medkit that she was certain the Federation would have thought to equip their offices with. Isha grabbed it then knelt on the tiles as she tipped the contents onto the floor.
The first thing she took was the pre-loaded hypospray. She read the label, some form of generic painkiller, she didn’t care what, then emptied it straight into her leg. There was a dermal regenerator, but one of limited capacity, designed for the fast treatment of minor abrasions. No matter, it was enough to treat her face so that she could get back to her suite without anyone knowing she had been beaten. Back there she had a more powerful one, one that Chelsea had left with her after Getal’s last assault.
As she crudely bound the wound Isha reflected that if t’Merek had not found her after Getal had raped her she would have crawled away and fixed herself up as best she could. There would have been no doctor, no witnesses and she would have told no-one. At least this time she was alone, and would not have to deal with the added humiliation of friends and staff knowing what he had done to her.
Taking the regenerator she got to her feet, watching in the looking glass as the swelling faded and her skin lightened as she applied the tool to her face. On the surface at least she returned to normal although as she gently pressed the renewed skin her cheek it was still so tender that Isha thought he may have fractured the bone beneath.
When she got back to her Embassy Isha would remove the cuts on her leg too and on the surface it would be as if this had never happened.
Some might argue that it made the whole exercise pointless, that Getal had wasted his time, but Isha understood the point that he was making. Even when the physical evidence of her subjugation was gone and her skin restored she would never be able to erase the memory of what he had done.