DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and its characters are the property of Paramount, so all the money you're eager to throw at me for writing this really should go to them instead.
SPOILERS: This is an epilogue for the episode "In a Mirror, Darkly," and as such it kind of has to contain spoilers for that episode. So go watch that before you read this, or risk being a little confused.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To eldritchsandwich[at]gmail.com

By EldritchSandwich


T'Pol hit the floor. Hard.

The intricately-carved marble echoed with the sound of her all-but-naked body dropping into it, filling the dark chamber with a low, funereal thrum. The columns ringing the room were the same silvery marble as the floor, quartzite specks like stars a counterpoint to the dim light of the night sky shining down through the glass dome above her.

"You have to admit it's impressive."

T'Pol forced her ringing head up to see the small Terran standing at the other end of the hall, arms spread wide. Her hair was down around her shoulders, flowing into a gauzy black gown that billowed around her arms and legs but barely covered anything else. Her perilous heels clicked against the floor as she bore down on the bruised and battered Vulcan.

Empress Hoshi Sato raised her arms over her head. "What do you think? I haven't had time to commission a new Imperial wardrobe; this belonged to the previous Emperor's consort."

The Empress shrugged, the motion making her barely-covered breasts and thighs roll sensuously.

"Of course, she's my consort now. Well, one of them. I had to give dear Travis an official position to reward his diligent service and his...substantial accomplishments."

"And is that your plan for me as well? To be another one of your whores?" T'Pol's voice was dispassionate, but with the slightest undercurrent of fear. "Or are you finally going to kill me?"

The Empress grinned as she leaned down, grabbing the scrap of cloth that had once been the Vulcan's undershirt and using it to pull her to her knees. "You'd actually like that, wouldn't you? You'd rather die than give me any satisfaction, especially that kind. Isn't that right?"

T'Pol said nothing.

"Well I'm sorry to tell you this, but I have something a little more interesting in mind for you."

T'Pol tensed when the Terran's other hand slid from behind her back, the glint of metal in the moonlight. "Do you know what I thought the first time Forrest brought you on board?"

The Empress leaned in, the tip of the knife sliding under the tattered shirt. "'She's going to be nothing but trouble.'"

With a flick of the knife, the ragged garment split down the middle, revealing the Vulcan's full, quivering breasts to the Empress' gaze. T'Pol's jaw tightened as the point of the knife began to lightly trace the taut skin.

"And do you know what I was thinking as I watched Archer gagging on his own vomit in his moment of triumph?" Her eyes went wide as the Empress flipped it around, presenting her with the handle. She leaned in again. "'That will never be me.'"

The Empress straightened, but left the knife in T'Pol's reach. "So here's my offer. You're going to be my pet.

"I'm going to strip you down and slather you in oil and wedge you into the most degrading costumes I can come up with, and I'm going to have you at my side at all times so my loyal subjects can see exactly what happens to the people who cross me."

"I would rather be dead."

The Empress grinned. "You only say that because you haven't heard the best part." Her eyes flitted to the knife. "Because you're going to have that.

"And all you have to do to end my reign of terror, secure freedom for your people, and get everything you've ever wanted...is wait until I let my guard down."

T'Pol's eyes went even wider, as did the Empress' grin. The Vulcan swallowed. "And if I refuse to play your game?"

Empress Sato shrugged airily. "Then we'll get on the Defiant and take a little trip to Vulcan...and I'll make you choose which city you want to not be there anymore."

T'Pol scowled. The Empress leaned in again, still offering the knife in her outstretched hand.

"What do you think?" She met the Vulcan's hateful, haughty glare with her own. "Can you take me?"

Empress Hoshi Sato padded softly into her chambers. The Imperial Palace was as immense and oppulent as any structure on Earth, all marble and glass and dark velvet; even with hundreds of servants and officers at her beck and call it still felt empty, and she was loathe to disturb the quiet.

She heard the crush of the plush carpet under a bare foot, and turned to find T'Pol waiting, head down, wearing only her collar. Hoshi smiled.

"I thought you might like to know; the Tellarites finally surrendered. The rebellion is officially over." T'Pol didn't respond as Hoshi grabbed the collar's lead, pulling the Vulcan down onto her lap as she set down on the edge of the bed. "What? Nothing to say?"

"The rebellion could never have withstood the new fleet's firepower. As soon as the Defiant was discovered, this outcome was inevitable."

"What, no cutting remarks about how I'm coasting on Archer's success? Or slept my way to victory?" T'Pol stiffened as Hoshi's hand slid down her back to cup a handful of pert flesh. "You wouldn't be going soft on me now, would you?"

In response, T'Pol dove forward, roughly claiming the Terran's mouth with her own. Hoshi let out a throaty chuckle as they tumbled to the bed. She hadn't been remotely surprised when the Vulcan had finally sought to seduce her; the only surprise was how good it had turned out to be.

As the two women rolled across the deep, pillowy bed, hands tearing away the Empress' tailored gown, T'Pol's lips slid lower. Soon, she was immersed in her Empress, the Terran writhing and moaning on top of her, thighs clenched around the Vulcan's head. When she came, she could feel the vibrations of T'Pol's own frustrated excitement, and her fingers began to inch lower.

Hours later, as the Empress and her favorite pet lay panting, Hoshi couldn't help but wonder at the interesting turns one's life could take. If she hadn't met Commander Archer, or Captain Forrest, if the Tholians hadn't been so paranoid, if any one of a thousand things hadn't happened exactly as they had, she might never have become Empress. She might still be teaching in Brazil, or on some other Imperial ship as some other captain's woman, or if the circumstances had been right she might even be the one with T'Pol's collar around her neck.

She might be a different person altogether.

She was still lost in thought when T'Pol's hand came down, the glint of steel in the soft light her only warning.

Hoshi's grip met her wrist a heartbeat before the blade would have pierced her chest. In no more time than that, she was on top, forcing T'Pol's arms up and sending the knife clattering to the floor. As their hips began to grind together again, the Empress grinned.

"That's more like it."

The End

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