Sweet Revenge

Author: Ventura33

Website: https://www.ventura33.com/

Contact: feedback (at) ventura33.com

Series: TNG

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Mary Sue/Picard/Q

Summary: Mary Sue vows revenge when Q steals her boyfriend (Picard, of course).

Disclaimer: Though they don’t belong to me, they do like to hang out with me on occasion.

Boyfriend problems. Again.

Worst luck in the galaxy, Lieutenant Marie-Suzette Bellefontaine sighed to herself as she stared glumly out at the passing stars. She’d thought everything was going to be gloriously wonderful when she’d latched on to Captain Jean-Luc Picard last year. Definitely the foxiest bald-headed officer in Starfleet, and a Frenchman besides, which had pleased Maman to no end. Poor Maman had worried, ever since Marie-Suzette left Avignon for Starfleet Academy, that her only daughter would end up in an interspecies relationship. Not that dear Maman was a bigot, of course, although she didn’t quite adhere to what Counselor Troi preached in those deadly dull diversity seminars.

At first, Marie-Suzette’s love affair with the captain had seemed absolutely perfect. He had a Frenchman’s romantic touch, lavishing roses, excellent wine, and candlelight dinners upon her, not to mention the most fabulous lovemaking imaginable.

But Jean-Luc had grown increasingly distracted of late, coinciding with the ever more frequent visits of a certain obnoxious immortal entity who seemed to enjoy nothing better than the captain’s company. For a while, Marie-Suzette had deluded herself that nothing was going on between them, that Jean-Luc simply found it prudent to keep a close watch on Q as a potential threat to the ship’s safety.

Unfortunately, walking quietly into Jean-Luc’s quarters last night with the thought of a romantic surprise, she’d seen for herself just how close of a watch her erstwhile lover was keeping on a very obliging entity.

In short, like many hapless women throughout history, Marie-Suzette had been shocked to discover that her boyfriend was a bit of a funny fellow.

At that point, many women would have given up on him and just had a good cry. Not Marie-Suzette, though. She was determined that Q, omnipotent or not, was going to get what he had coming.

Throwing her uniform in a heap on the floor, Marie-Suzette changed into a tight black leather outfit before storming down the corridor toward the captain’s quarters. She passed several junior officers who averted their eyes before turning to stare discreetly after her. Not that she cared how much of a scene she made.

She jabbed a perfectly manicured finger, now adorned with black nail polish, at the door buzzer. “Jean-Luc, open the damn door. I know you’re in there.”

The door slid open, revealing a very naked Jean-Luc Picard down on all fours on the plush carpet, with a taut silver chain running from his gleaming nipple rings to his crotch. Q, wearing nothing but boxer shorts as he sat on the sofa admiring the view, reached over and tweaked the chain languidly, drawing a gasp of pleasure from his human lover.

“I’m afraid Jean-Luc has no more use for you, my dear. As you can see, he’s otherwise occupied. Now run along like a good little girl, and find someone else to play with.”

“The only reason he’s interested in you is because of your powers,” Marie-Suzette spat. “If I had the powers of a Q, he’d never look at you again.”

“Is that a dare?” Q looked amused.

“Even if it were, you’d never have the guts to agree to a fair challenge, would you?” Marie-Suzette raised an eyebrow mockingly.

“All right, my precious wasp-tongued demoiselle, you’re on.” Q, still lounging on the sofa, snapped his fingers. “You now have all the powers of a member of the Q Continuum, until 0800 hours, Monday morning. If you can win back Jean-Luc’s affections by that time, I’ll vanish from the Enterprise, never to be seen again. If you fail, however, you’ll spend the rest of your pathetic mortal life as a naked slave at the Ferengi Intergalactic Zoo, scrubbing the targ cages.”

Marie-Suzette glanced down at herself. Nothing about her appearance seemed to have changed at all. She tentatively visualized herself levitating and snapped her fingers as Q had done.

Instantly she found herself floating about ten centimeters above the carpet. All right, she was certainly off to a promising start. The first order of business was to turn Q into a frog. She snapped her fingers again.

To her dismay, Q still sat there in his shorts, smirking at her. “You didn’t actually think you could get rid of me that easily, did you, ma belle? Remember, it took the entire concentrated power of the Q Continuum to strip me of my omnipotence. I’m afraid your clumsy efforts just don’t cut the mustard.”

A frustrated Marie-Suzette continued to float in the middle of the room for a moment as she pondered her perilous situation. It didn’t take her long to realize just where she was going to have to turn for help — to the one entity in all the universe who could reduce even the great Q to quivering, cringing, abject terror.

Madame Q, of course.

The captain’s quarters dissolved around Marie-Suzette as, with her newfound powers, she searched through myriad alternate universes for the object of her quest. Eventually a great wood began to take shape around her, the rustling and sighing of the green-gold leaves almost musical. Amidst the towering trees there stood a grave and beautiful lady, clad in purest white, her golden hair long and bright.

“I am the Lady Galadriel, and I bid you welcome to the fair country of Lothlorien, kind traveler from a distant land! Cast aside your cares for a while, as my honored guest, and recount the full tale of your journey! What wickedness has begun to stir outside the borders of my beloved wood?”

Marie-Suzette approached the royal presence and made a deep curtsey. Although keeping a straight face wasn’t easy, the prospect of life as a Ferengi zookeeper’s slave was more than enough to banish her amusement. Moreover, all the time she’d spent in the Tolkien program on the Enterprise’s holodeck recently, feeding holographic versions of her romantic rival to slavering orcs, had left her thoroughly familiar with the scenario.

“Alas, Madame, your humble servant deeply regrets that she has brought evil tidings of deceit, of treachery most fell! Your noble husband, the Lord Celeborn, known in some lands as Q, has betrayed your trust. Even as we speak, my lady, he cavorts in foul adultery with a human starship captain . . .”

Lightning flashed in the clear sky, and a powerful thunderclap seemed to shake the ground. The majestic trees shuddered as if a sudden gale had arisen.

“The vile knave! By the time I’ve finished with him, he’s going to wish I had thrown him to the tender mercies of a Balrog!”

The great trees of Lothlorien began to shake even more ominously, and several of the silver-gold branches splintered and came crashing to the ground.

“Please, don’t kill Captain Picard,” Marie-Suzette said hastily, as a black whirlwind of Madame Q’s wrath began to rise around her, blotting everything from her sight in a grim, eerie darkness. “It’s not his fault. He, uh, didn’t know that Q was married.”

She could hear no response as the whirlwind shrieked its rage around her. A moment later, Marie-Suzette suddenly found herself standing in the comparative silence of the captain’s quarters once more, with Madame Q on her right.

Although it wasn’t entirely silent. Jean-Luc still knelt on the floor, his handsome posterior submissively exposed to Q’s every whim. Not surprisingly, Q had shed his shorts and was energetically fucking Jean-Luc in the ass. Both men grunted and moaned in pleasure, until Q caught a glimpse of his wife, at which time he let out a moan of quite a different sort and promptly vanished.

The cheating entity reappeared an instant later in a chair across the room, fully dressed, with a rather weak smile toward Madame Q.

“I see this mortal woman told the truth,” observed Madame, with a brief glance toward Marie-Suzette. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Q, before I scatter your worthless atoms across the galaxy?”

“You’re overreacting, my sweet darling.” Q gulped nervously. “A bit of foolish amusement with a lowly, inferior mortal doesn’t mean I love you any less. Jean-Luc was just a toy; he means nothing to me.”

“Is that so?” With her lips pursed contemptuously, Madame Q gazed down at the captain, who was obviously less than thrilled at that lofty dismissal. “And not much of a toy at that, is he? All right, then, I’ll just go away and leave you to enjoy yourself in his quarters.”

A small bottle instantly appeared on the chair where Q had been. At first Marie-Suzette thought there was some sort of bug inside the bottle, but then she realized that the tiny figure was Q, reduced to a height of approximately two centimeters. The lid had a few small air holes in it.

“I’ll be back to retrieve this cockroach on Monday morning. Unfortunately, that’s as long as I can keep him like this,” Madame Q informed Marie-Suzette. “Feel free to toss him in a closet if you don’t feel like looking at his ugly face. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my enchanted wood before the evil hordes from Mordor invade.”

After Madame Q disappeared, Marie-Suzette, with a wide and ever-spreading smirk, approached the chair. Tossing Q in a closet was the last thing on her mind. She began to sing “La Cucaracha” very loudly, and a bit off-key. Q looked as if he might be shouting back at her, but she could barely hear what sounded like tiny, distant squeaks.

Marie-Suzette tapped the side of the bottle with a gleaming black fingernail. “What’s the matter, Q? How come you’re not dancing for me?”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned back toward Jean-Luc. While she still had the powers of a Q, she intended to make the most of them. A black whip appeared in her right hand. “I didn’t give you permission to move, lover boy. Now, get back on your knees.”

“Cherie . . .”

The whip scored lightly across Jean-Luc’s flanks. “I didn’t give you permission to speak, either.”

Silence definitely suited him, Marie-Suzette thought, as she paced slowly around the submissive figure of her kneeling lover. And, oh yes, those nipple rings were the perfect accessory. She reached out with the whip and rubbed it along the length of Jean-Luc’s hard cock.

At first she considered shoving a dildo up his ass, until a far more amusing possibility occurred to her. As she raised her left hand, the small bottle appeared in her grasp, obedient to her whim. She parted Jean-Luc’s ass cheeks and slid the neck of the bottle into the already well-lubricated opening. Q bounced around helplessly inside the bottle as Marie-Suzette worked it deeper into Jean-Luc’s ass.

She coiled the lash twice around Jean-Luc’s cock and jerked him off with firm, expert strokes. As he reached his orgasm, with ecstatic whimpers that he couldn’t quite suppress, Marie-Suzette jammed the bottle all the way into his ass.

Of course, as an omnipotent being, she didn’t have any trouble retrieving the smeared, grimy bottle afterward. She wrinkled her nose at its smell as she held it up. A clump of shit was stuck to the lid. One of the breathing holes still appeared to be open, but Marie-Suzette figured that since Q was immortal, it really didn’t matter whether he had air or not.

She was about to roll the bottle under a nearby table but decided she’d better put it behind the toilet, instead, so as not to stink up Jean-Luc’s quarters. Then, wishing her clothes away with a thought, Marie-Suzette reclined provocatively on the sofa. Jean-Luc could pleasure her for the rest of the weekend. Although he’d just climaxed, she restored his cock to its previous erect condition and, as an afterthought, extended its length by ten centimeters. He was going to have far more fun as her toy, she was sure, than he’d ever had as Q’s.


Monday morning came far too soon. Marie-Suzette, once again a mortal Starfleet officer after an incredible weekend of the hottest sex she’d ever enjoyed, had just reported for duty in Engineering when a furious Q appeared in front of her.

“I might have promised to leave the Enterprise forever,” Q hissed, “but I didn’t promise not to reduce you to a microscopic smear of organic matter first.”

Just her luck, Q was a sore loser. Marie-Suzette, certain that she was about to die, could do nothing but stand helplessly as Q, looking very much like a Greek god about to hurl a thunderbolt, extended a wrathful hand toward her.

But the crash of thunder only heralded the arrival of Madame Q, who seized her errant husband firmly by the ear. “Come along, Q, you’ve done more than enough slumming with mortals for this millennium. And Gandalf’s forces are awaiting our aid as they battle the Fighting Uruk-hai of Isengard.”

Both entities vanished, and Engineering’s alpha shift crew was left to wonder forever why Marie-Suzette suddenly burst into howls of uncontrollable laughter.