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Muzzled was a good look on her Elim.
The Gul had never known what was good for himself. Like a hound that needed to be kept from eating fecal matter it found on walks or from snapping at other animals it met along the way, he needed to be guarded from his own shortsighted stupidity.
The collar and chain only added to the look. And the nudity, well…
Something needed to distinguish between the beasts and the civilized.
Nerys had kept many pets in her time. Most of them had been pampered, lazy things—her beloved companion animals that lounged about her quarters in various states of undress and came on command. At their worst, they’d come to her broken and desperate, ready and willing to do whatever it would take for food, warmth, softness. To be caressed and loved and told they were good.
Compared to them, Elim was almost feral. He was out of control, like a vicious cur that had never been told no before and had grown too used to running wild off his chain. Maybe he’d had the barest acceptable measure of obedience before, back when he’d been under her command—she had preferred it that way; it'd kept things interesting—but he’d lost it as soon as he’d stopped having a master that cared to reinforce it.
Well, that would all change. Even the most stubborn of beasts would break with time and a firm hand. It simply required a matter of patience. Nerys had all of those things.
Already, Elim was bored. She could tell. His sleeping mat was a small thing, originally meant for house targs and just big enough for the average humanoid to lay slightly curled. (Worf had acquired it on his last visit to Qo'nos on her request.) It now sat in the space between the masterbed and the wall, and Elim had spent the last several hours sitting on it. Earlier, he’d been glaring, but now his gaze was drifting, and he kept shifting his weight, making the chain that connected him to the bedpost rattle. His scales were looking dull, dry, and poorly fitted.
Nerys ignored him in favor of continuing her evening routine at the dressing table. Let him simmer in whatever nasty little thoughts went on in a head like his. It would make him more receptive to whatever attention she might choose to give him later. And she would give him attention. Worf was attending to matters of ship operations—issues between the crew and their scheduling that needed to be smoothed over—and so it would be just the two of them tonight. A special occasion so rare as to be cherished.
Nerys finished wiping off her makeup and moved onto working a small scraper under the folders of her nose ridge. With each pass, she wiped detritus off on a tissue.
Usually, their time together was overshadowed by Worf. While Elim's care was her responsibility, she couldn't afford to give him her full attention too often, lest the Regent become jealous or suspicious that they were in cahoots, and most of her time was spent devoted to Worf and tracking down the Terrans anyhow. She spent her days on the bridge at his side, Elim with them on his leash only when the Regent was feeling magnanimous.
In the months since she’d arrived, Nerys had been careful to insert herself into the role of doting mistress to the Regent. She’d been able to convince him of her continued usefulness not just in bed, but in bringing down the Terran uprising. She knew those rabblerousers. She understood them. Could bring them to heel. And if she might open Worf’s eyes up to the wonders a few fingers and a strap could bring in the meantime...
This was all a temporary arrangement of course. Nerys had never been fond of living at another’s mercy or their charity, and in fact, she much preferred to be the one providing it. As soon as a suitable opportunity arose, she would convince Worf it was time to let her go, move on to greener pastures, and reaccumulate her power where she could.
For now though, she bided her time.
Nerys watched Elim out of the corner of her eye as she finished with her nose and then ran a quick comb through her hair. Finally, she deemed it time.
She set the comb down and stood, taking a few products from the table with her. This got Elim’s attention. His head lifted from the carving on the bedpost he’d been staring at, and he watched as she deposited the products onto the bed and sat, patting the space next to her.
“Come sit.”
Elim narrowed his eyes. “So you can go crying to the Regent that I went and touched his blankets? I don’t think so.”
“He doesn’t need to know. Come on.” She patted the bed again for emphasis, batting her eyelashes at him with a pout.
Elim stared at her and the bed, seeming to be weighing the consequences before stiffly getting to his feet. He padded over, seating himself a distance aways. Nerys tutted, scooping up the products and scooting closer. Elim scooted away. Nerys scooted closer again. This repeated until Elim reached the end of his chain with a jerk, the length of it taut from where it was fastened and pulling at his neck.
“Oh come on. That can’t be comfortable,” Nerys said.
“As if you don’t take pleasure in my discomfort,” Elim sniped, refusing to look at her.
“Actually, I’m doing this for your comfort.”
She put her armful down and picked up a container. It was a moisturizer designed for dual Bajoran-Cardassian use. She squirted some onto her palm and capped the container, rubbing her hands together to warm it up before moving to get at Elim’s back. He turned to keep her in his vision.
“It’s about time for a shed soon, isn’t it?” Nerys cooed as her fingertips brushed along his scales. Elim jerked away but she followed, laying her hands flat to begin rubbing the cream in. She continued, “I can tell because your scales have been looking a little stiffer and getting dull. Maybe we can organize a nice steam bath for you. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Elim grunted in response, his posture stiff.
“What are you thinking about?” she tried again.
“How capable I am of doing this myself.”
Nerys rolled her eyes but let him stew in his silence if that was what he wanted. He would crack with time. If not today, then tomorrow. The day after that. She was in no hurry.
Cardassians were social animals, just the same as any other warp capable species. And like any other social animal, they were primed to seek out companionship, to desire touch and interaction. Worf could barely stand to look at Elim these days. There was no one left for the Cardassian but her.
This was her revenge; the worst fate she could make a man like Elim endure. Nerys would tame him. She would break him down with softness and treats until he readily rolled over to show his underbelly for attention. By the time she was done, he would be gagging for her praise, would eat readily from her hand. And after she was gone, he would continue to live a lowly life accepting scraps from his master’s table, content to be contained—always chained or crated—and perfectly happy to heel at his masters’ feet and come on command.
Encounters like these were just stepping stones in her plans for him.
As expected, Elim gradually relaxed as she worked, the chain no longer pulling quite so hard on his neck. Nerys said nothing and took her small victory in graceful quiet.
As she continued, she could feel the top layer of scale becoming looser, beginning to peel and roll at the edges. It was a rather nice sensation, actually. Nerys had always been the sort with a compulsive urge to peel. As a child, she had delighted in unwrapping the husks off of padanoa fruits, and in pulling at peeling paint until it came off the wall in long strips. This was no different.
The skin rolled off of him under her hands, clinging to her own skin in clumps as she worked her thumbs between his shoulder blades.
“You really hurt his trust, you know,” she tried again when the silence had gone on long enough. They both knew who she was talking about. “He liked you, and you took advantage and didn’t even try to hide it. You wouldn’t be here right now if you could just control yourself.”
“Control myself? Like you, the nymphomaniac?”
“Just because I know how to enjoy myself doesn’t mean I don’t know when it’s time to stop.”
“Yes, your affair with Sisko showed that.”
Nerys would’ve slapped him right then and there if not for his muzzle. Instead, she grabbed the collar’s chain and yanked on it, making Elim topple onto his back as he choked. She raked her nails over his chest spoon, prematurely tearing a large dry piece of shed off. He howled in pain and jerked.
She put her mouth to his ear. “What I shared with Sisko was something deeper than a man like you would ever be able to understand," she said with clenched teeth.
“Yes, clearly,” Elim gasped, eyes bulging as he struggled for breath against the collar.
Nerys narrowed her eyes but released him. It took Elim several long seconds to sit upright again, his breathing ragged.
It really was a shame that he had such a perpetual need to make things harder for himself. Nerys decided she wouldn't make any further attempts to engage him in conversation today. Animals shouldn't talk anyways.
Decision made, she pet an idle hand through his hair, feeling the ridges that extended beneath it and the hard straps of his muzzle sitting over top. Elim tensed again under the ministrations, but that was okay. She could tell they weren't going to make any more progress for today. Still, the shedding needed to be take care of. Worf wouldn't be happy if pieces of it began to flake off on their own around the ship.
Nerys reached for the bottle to pour more cream into her hand and began working at his back again. As she massaged the moisturizer in, her eye caught on the ridged strip of scales down the side of Elim's neck. She reached up to work a nail under the edge and peeled away a wide strip of old skin.