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Chapter Text

It has been two weeks since you confronted the fallen Jedi Master, Obi Wan Kenobi. Driven by grief, he followed his former padawan to the dark side. Darth Vader and Darth Valor. Together they assassinated Chancellor Palpatine and instituted a new Sith rule over the Republic.

The former padawan was once said to be the Chosen One to bring balance to the force, and it was on this claim he ruled as king over the galaxy. He took a wife, Senator Amidala, Palpatine’s one-time rival in the senate, and she bore twins.

The fallen master ruled at his side as advisor and emissary. As he spoke, so spoke the Republic.

You encountered him in the Temple on Coruscant. He had come to instruct the council of their new role in the war against the Separatists. His true mission, however, had been the assassination of Jedi Master Luminara Unduli. You crossed his path as he tried to make his escape and locked blades. He made quick work of you by electrocuting your wrists and forcing you to drop your lightsaber. He threw your defenseless body against a wall and spoke over your crumpled form. “Remember who you are dealing with. You answer to me, now, Jedi.” And with that, he stalked off.

Since that moment, echoes of his words rang through your consciousness. In quiet moments, you could hear him as though he was with you in the room. “You answer to me.” Meditation brought visions of his saber slicing through his enemies. Sometimes, as you fell asleep, the last image in your mind was that of his red-rimmed eyes.

You recognized this as trauma. Flashbacks of the moment you could have lost your life. As a Jedi, you knew these moments were part of your duty, and so you watched them pass impartially. Memories are nothing to fear. You struggled more to accept the guilt you felt. You should have sensed something was wrong and saved her. You should have told the Council what had happened. But somehow, to admit he had allowed you to live felt like too intimate a secret to share so publicly. So, you dwelled on it.

But such concerns interfered with your sleep, and so you had to find a distraction tonight.

In your simple Knight’s quarters, settled comfortably into your bed. You propped yourself against the headboard and gazed out your window at the Coruscant skyline. Absent-mindedly, your hands drifted over your body. One hand worked it’s way under your leggings and the other into your hair, finding bliss in your own touch.

And then you hear his voice.

“Do the council know of your dirty secret? My, what would they think? How could you ever tell them how much you think about being mine?”

You exhale, flushed.

“Do your own thoughts betray you? You want nothing more than to relive that night: weak and at my mercy. Isn’t that right?”

The image of Darth Valor floods your mind. It is as though he is truly in the room with you.

Exhausted, you give into the fantasy.

You picture the Dark Lord kissing your mouth fiercely. His gloved hand cups your jaw too tightly as the other pulls the small of your back to his stomach. You feel his arousal below his belt. You grind into him, growing wetter and wetter for him.

He undresses you. He greedily sucks at your skin: neck, breasts, stomach, and thighs. Your own hands join in, groping at your breast and circling your clit.

“It is so easy to be mine,” his voice chimes.

You arch your back at the thought.

“That’s it, fuck yourself for me. Show how desperate you are to be possessed.”

You plunge your fingers into yourself. You feel your tipping point near.

His voice carries you over and through, “Remember who you serve.”

In post-coital bliss you hear these words echo deep within your consciousness and they comfort you to sleep.

Chapter Text

The next night you settle into bed and slick your fingers up. You massage your folds and picture the attractive twi’lek civilian who flirted openly with you earlier in the day. You imagine their hand between your thighs making you wet.

But as your need deepens, you feel the eyes of Darth Valor on you. He watches your obscene performance. You imagine his satisfaction as you sink deeper and deeper into pleasures of the flesh.

“I could be so good for you,” you tell him.

You know that this would make him smirk and say «I would expect nothing less.»

«I would expect total loyalty. You would be mine, and mine alone. You would think of no one else.»

The intensity of these thoughts makes you burn.

«You would not touch yourself freely, as you are now. If I forbade you from touching yourself, you would not. And if I instructed you to fuck yourself for me, you would, and you would not come without my command.»

Your pleasure deepens at the idea of pleasing him in so many ways.

«And if I said ‘come’ you would come again and again until I allowed you to stop. Do you understand? What it means to belong to Sith Lord Valor?»

Your body craves this, and you cannot resist.

«It means you exist to serve. If I give you pain, you thank me. If you err, you are punished. And if I tell you that you enjoy your punishment, you will enjoy it. But I am not often so kind.»

You pinch and twist your own nipple as you imagine how he relishes your suffering.

«You serve me, my desires and my pleasure. Your own wants are nothing, they do not exist. If I desire that you should kneel before me, tongue at the ready, for hours, you do so. You kneel though your knees hurt. You present your mouth for me though you drool a pathetic puddle down your own body or become parched. This is what it means to serve Sith.»

You extend your tongue as you touch yourself. You imagine the head of his cock feeding you precum. It pains you that this image is only in your mind.

The desperation and degredation send you over the edge. As you climax you incant to him , “Take me, Dark Lord, I serve you.”

As you slip from consciousness you hear him reply, “You will serve me well.”

Chapter Text

After a long day of combat training, you draw a bath. The tub is perfectly heated and deep with pulsing jets. You add fragrance and salts to the water. This is exactly what your aching muscles need. You sink into the water with an easy sigh. The waterline reaches your neck and your head rests against a soft pillow. Your mind empties. You are at peace. 

Slowly, you wash the sweat and grime of training from your skin. You dip your hair into the water and gently shampoo it. For a moment you indulge the fantasy of a lover washing it for you. Someone to come home to, someone to care for you… it will never be your life, but it’s a lovely fantasy. It distracts from the ache in your shoulders as you massage conditioner into your hair.

You submerge your head under the water and rinse away the conditioner. When you emerge from the water and open your eyes, an apparition of the Sith Lord sits at the edge of the tub. He wears a dark robe wrapped tightly around him. His hair is  auburn and he wears it slicked back. His beard looks soft and neatly trimmed. His red-rimmed eyes stare through you, but his demeanor is unthreatening. Just another benign intrusion into your thoughts. 

“You’ve had a hard day. Close your eyes and let my voice guide you,” he coaxes. His voice is even-tempered and soothing. You oblige.

”First,” he instructs, “I want you to show your body your appreciation. It has done much for you today. Let your hands drift over your muscles and think about what they have learned today.”

Your hands follow where you imagine his gaze. Your hands pass over your shoulders, still aching, then your chest. You work your way down over your abdomen, pausing to appreciate the feeling of your own touch at the small of your waist. You then massage your thighs firmly. As you work from outer to inner thigh you feel your arousal growing under his gaze. 

“You deserve to feel good today. I want you to massage yourself as you have for me until you crave more. When you are ready, you will let me know and address me as Master.”

You caress your body with deepening pressure. You begin to focus on your lower abdomen and inner thighs until you find yourself murmuring “Ready, Master.”

”Good,” he commends. “Now,  you will give the same attention to your sex. Keep your fingers together and your palm open. Massage with gentle pressure and feel as your body grows warm and full.”

You do as he asks. 

“So obedient,“ he taunts, “but it is easy to be obedient to pleasure, isn’t it?”

”Yes, Master,” you respond absently. 

“I want you to press the heel of your thumb above your clitoral hood and grope yourself for me this way. Five times. Count for me, and don’t rush.” His tone is stern.

You count, one… two… three… four… five.

“Good girl. Now, slowly circle your clit. With each circle, slowly inhale and exhale. Fifteen times. Don’t complain.”

You settle in and stroke yourself as instructed. By the tenth, your clit is aching. You whine softly with each exhale, but you make it to fifteen. 

“I can feel you giving into your passion, that’s it. Good girl. So disciplined. You would do anything I told you to do if it made you feel this way. But not everything will feel this way. Will you obey me still? Spread your thighs as widely as you can. Rest your hands on your hips. Notice how far away they are from giving you pleasure.”

You obey. Your sex feels cool and exposed without the warmth of your hand. 

“I want you to recite for me your Jedi code. Do it aloud.”

You recite, “There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.”

”Do your loins still ache, Jedi? Do you still feel your passion?”

“Yes, Master.”

”So, there is passion, serenity is just a lie. The truth is you ache desperately when you are denied.”

”Please do not deny me, Master,” you whisper urgently.

“I will not deny you so long as you do not deny your passion,” he reassures. “I want you to stroke the delicate tips of your lips for me.”

You touch yourself eagerly, stroking away the unease of denial.  

“Now circle your folds and your clit, delicately for now. Just one finger. Focus on the power something so small can hold.”

You moan into your shoulder as you follow his commands. You feel totally obscene and it only arouses you further.

”Draw your attention to your clit and find your rhythm for me now.”

You do as he asks, working slowly up to the right tempo.

”Beautiful. Now, enter yourself with that finger and place your thumb over your clit. Good girl.”

You rock into yourself at the same tempo. 

“Another finger, if you desire it,” he commands.

You easily accept it and you shiver as your two fingers curl into your G spot.

”Faster, now,” he instructs.

You obey as you chase your peak.

”Slow down. Focus on your lips again for me.”

You whine softly in protest.

”Place your trust in me,” he commands.

You slow your pace and massage your labia once again. 

“When you re-enter yourself, you will feel so incredibly full because you will have known emptiness. This is why you must give yourself to me: passion, undisciplined, will not allow you to reach your fullest potential.”

You nod, on edge. 

“Now, you will enter yourself, and stretch yourself to your desire. You will fuck yourself for me, at my command. And when you come, you will thank me for my instruction. Do you understand?”

”Yes, Master.”

”Very well then, come for me.”

You do as you are told. Your fingers curl deep into you, your thumb massages your clit, and you find the golden pace. You ride your climax in waves until you hear yourself gasp “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Master.” As you come to your sense you whisper “Thank you for your wisdom, Master. I see that my passion needs your discipline.” Your body shudders in the warm, sweet-scented waters. Your eyes open and you are alone again.

You stand. Your aching muscles now feel of jelly. You step out of the bath and don a dry, black, woven robe. Feet firmly in the reality of the Temple once more, you dry your hair and walk down the public corridor to your room. This night, you dream deeply of Darth Valor.

Chapter Text

In a dream, you see a door at the end of a long hallway with two Senate guards. They allow you to pass and you enter a grand office. Darth Valor sits in repose. A door on the far side of the room opens. Darth Vader’s frame darkens the doorway. His hair is wild and free, his face scarred, but his demeanor is genial.

“It is good to have you back, Obi-Wan” Darth Vader says charmingly.

“I wasn’t gone for that long, Anakin” the other man teases.

“You’ll be glad to hear that the assassination of Master Luminara was a success. Talk of Jedi rebellion has all but ceased and their access to sympathetic troop support has been entirely cut off.”

“It is regrettable that she fell in with such people, but I am glad that others will not follow in her steps.”

“Her passing is the will of the Force, just as her birth was,” Anakin reminds him. “The Jedi Order cannot be allowed to continue to disrupt the Force.”

“It will be difficult to keep them on our side. They may serve the Republic, for now, but serving Sith will not sit more easily with time.”

“It is a blessing then, that their numbers will thin on the battlefield.”

“And they will be flung across the galaxy. It might be wise to attack the Temple while the majority are serving on the front. It would be hard to organize without a home base.”

“I hope it will not come to that, I prefer to have them close by and under my thumb.”

“You still intend to reform them after the war, then?”

“The reform has already begun. Monks and diplomats,” he spits, “become warriors and veterans. It will not be difficult to show them the failings of Jedi teaching. They will know first hand that peace is a lie. They will crave something deeper to live for. We will show them what we have discovered, and they will follow.”

“And what of those who are entrenched in their ways?” Obi-Wan inquires.

“We have reason to believe Yavin 4 will be suitable. There’s not much they could do out there.”

“And it is wise not to extinguish the old teachings entirely, we may have use for them someday.”

“But they must never take hold again. Sentiment cannot allow us to forget our goal. The Force demands balance. Sith must rule and Jedi must serve. And both must embrace the Force, fully. No more vows of chastity. No more single-minded revenge. If too many stick to the old ways, there will be bloodshed. Crushing this early Jedi rebellion is the first step, but they will learn. They will become smarter. They may lie in wait.’

“We may have an advantage.”

“Oh?”

“When I was in the Temple, I crossed paths with a young Jedi Knight.”

“Sloppy,” Anakin tuts.

Obi-Wan waves his hand dismissively. “She was unusually… receptive. It was as though her mind was totally unguarded.”

Anakin cocks an eyebrow.
“Unusual. A trained Jedi?”

“Most certainly. We have some kind of unique connection.”

Anakin smirks, “Interesting.”

“I’ve been able to access her mind at various times. It seems to work best when her mind is quiet.”

“So if she knew something secret, you might not know.”

“I might not. But when she is tired or when she is relying on her muscle memory during training… those moments she is vulnerable. I may be able eavesdrop or implant thoughts effectively.”

Anakin leans forward intently and strokes his jaw. “What have you tried?”

Darth Valor expression darkens. “Our connection is strongest when she is sexually active.”

Anakin laughs wryly. “She’s fantasizing about you, you mean?”

“I can’t be certain what is our… connection… and what is her free will.”

“Both are the Force, ultimately. It may be something in the biochemistry of sex that opens up her mind to you.”

“And it helps that the Jedi have given her no preparation in that domain. She seems to be totally unaware of my presence… I have been researching it. It seems the Sith took such people as slaves-”

“I will not see the Force used to enslave-“ Anakin snipes.

“No, she must enter the contract willingly.”

“Under your influence?”

“The Force has connected us, that I cannot change.”

“All very rational, Darth Valor,” Anakin drawls, “But how do you feel about her?”

Darth Valor lights up. “Absolutely fascinated,” he purrs.

“I am glad to see you pursuing your desires more deeply, my apprentice. Pursue this Jedi. Bring her to our side. She may prove useful.” With that, Darth Vader stands. “Now, if you will excuse me, Padme is working late and I have twins to feed.”

“I should visit soon. How are the children?”

“One is a fighter already, I’m afraid. The other… let’s just say takes more after Mother.”

“You are shaping great leaders, Anakin.”

Anakin laughs, “Shaping minds seems to be the work of the Sith.”

Darth Valor nods and Darth Vader exits.

Valor stands and gazes out a window.

He speaks, “You are here, aren’t you?”

You emerge from the shadows and speak, “Am I?”

“Our connection flows both ways,” he observes as though he had been waiting for confirmation.

“You are in my mind. It’s you.” You stand at his side.

“What are you here for?” He crooks a finger and runs it along your cheek. “Do you savor our connection as I do?”

You close your eyes and shudder at his phantom touch.

“Do I frighten you?”

“I am not afraid. I feel… drawn to you.”

Darth Valor kisses you. His beard is rough on your soft lips, but the sensation is only half-real.

“More,” you whisper.

He pins you against the glass. One large hand presses against your pubic mound and the other firmly presses into your collarbone. His body rolls as he kisses you deeply and moves his hand over your clothes. He steals away from your mouth and sucks at your neck.

You hear him breathe “I desire you.”

You rock your hips into his hand.

“Make me yours,” you tell him.

His mouth muffles your words and he makes out with you as you ride his hand until your vision goes black.

You wake in your room at the Temple. Your heart pounds. What a nightmare.

You throw your bedding off of you and sit upright, breathing heavily. One thought races through your mind- is it real?

You roll out a mat and meditate in front of your window. The morning light warms your face. You calm your mind and embrace serenity.

As you go about your day, you turn the problem over in your mind. Is this connection to the Sith Lord real? What would it mean if you were connected to the second most powerful man in the Galaxy?

If you went to the council, they would surely learn the nature of your connection. And that embarrassment you could not bear. Such attachments are below Jedi.

You remember Darth Vader’s words in your dream. Perhaps, you think, there will be a place for you in a reformed Order. All you must do is bide your time. And perhaps try not to deepen the connection… despite its allure.

Chapter Text

“Are you here?” you ask your empty bedroom. There is no reply.

You step into the empty space in front of your window. You undress slowly. First, you take off your belt and cast it aside. You drop your sleeveless robe to the floor. You unwrap your tunic top. You stand quietly in a state of partial undress, watching the traffic of Coruscant.

You become aware of a gentle nudge at the back of your consciousness. A tether. A feeling of anticipation.

Gently, you remove your socks and arm wraps. In the privacy of your own room, standing in your undershirt and leggings, you feel exposed.

The memory of being pressed into the glass of the Senate office flashes through your mind. You clutch your collarbone, remembering the pressure.

Instinctively you drop to your knees. You picture Darth Valor standing in front of you. You push a thumb into your mouth, imaging it is his finger. You suck obscenely.

Your hips rock, moving the thick seam of your leggings over your vulva, teasing.

“This is what you want,” his voice rings clear.

You blush, embarrassed by the rawness of your desire.

He withdraws his finger and grasps your jaw tightly. “I will give you this and much more,” he vows.

With one hand, he grabs the back of your head. With the other, he shoves his trousers down. He guides your mouth to his balls. You imagine savoring them with the flat of your tongue. He gently inserts his cock into your receptive mouth. You suck rhythmically on your own two fingers. You feel yourself soak your panties.

“Enough,” he commands. “Show me what you really want.”

You crawl up onto the end of your bed and hastily remove your bottoms. Picturing his eyes on you, you remove your top as well. You wish you could feel his hands on your swollen breasts.

You spread your legs wide and grope at your thighs. You slide one hand between your legs, spreading your wetness generously. You grind your clit against the mounds of your palm.

Your need to be filled grows. You plunge two fingers into yourself and fuck quickly. Through the tether, you feel his hand on his cock. The sensation is overwhelming. In sync, you find your climax. As you come, you feel the wetness of his come on his stomach - your stomach. You see his lust-consumed face vividly in your minds eye. He does not speak, but he does not need to. Your slick fingers trace over the dry place where you feel his come. As you clean yourself up and dressed, the ghost of the sensation persists.
You feel like his.

Chapter Text

Your memory is hazy, but you know that an assignment in Deep Coruscant landed you in a Bacta tank for a week. You have recovered well, but you are weak. The Jedi Healers sent you to Tython to rest and recuperate at a retreat. You have a large, comfortable room with nature views all to yourself. Attendants bring food and medicine throughout the day. For now, you are mostly bed-bound. You would welcome the rest, but your body aches. Pain clouds your thoughts. You can't even sleep.

"They're pushing you too hard," his voice echoes in your mind, incensed. "Too many Jedi have been deployed to the front and the Council no longer cares what becomes of its servants. You don't even know what put you in this state."

A chill runs down your spine - he can see that your memories are gone. What else does he know?

"It's all well and good that you're healing, but once you're in fighting shape it's only a matter of time before you are sacrificed on the front lines like the rest. Is that really meant to be your fate?" he purrs.

You don't know, of course, that this will be the case. The future is unclear. Still, it is true that many Jedi have been deployed and lost contact with the Council, though only a handful have been confirmed to have perished.

For now, you are focused on healing, not preoccupied with your fate.

"You want to know, don't you? You want to see how you almost died."

You want to sleep, actually. But that won't be happening, so yes, you suppose. You do.

"Just follow my voice, I'll show you," Darth Valor entices. "Relax your body and mind. Feel yourself open. Imagine my voice is a river, rushing in."

You do as he asks.

"Good. Good. Notice how you feel about your failure. Yes, it is raw and humiliating. Don't shy away. Focus on that feeling. Follow it back. What did you feel before humiliation? There it is - fear, desperation. They consume you. But where do they come from, what did you feel before the tides turned? Ah, you were so sure of yourself." He tuts. "What a shame. So sure in your training only to lose control."

Tears roll down your face.

"Now, can you remember the moment before that - surprise, there it is. And before that... not much. Good. Replay your feelings in your mind. Let them take hold in your body. Let the images come with the emotions."

You watch as you round a corner and catch a spice deal going down. Blaster fire surrounds you. You were caught in a gang ambush without warning. You defended yourself well until a modified droid entered and blew the street to bits.

"There wasn't much you could do, really," he encourages, "I'm very glad that you survived. And that you are here, now. It's a lovely place, really. You're lucky."

You scoff. Lucky to be inured?

"But you are all alone, wanting for company, what a waste."

It's true, you're lonely. Very lonely.

He appears as an apparition at your bedside. "Wouldn't it be better if I were here with you?"

"I'm not very good company," you whisper hoarsely.

He smiles wryly.

"Imagine it. Alone, somewhere remote. Time away from the war. Free to explore...."

"This connection," you finish.

He gently takes your hand and raises it above your head. Then the other. He spreads your feet to the corners of the bed as well. "I would have you like this."

It thrills you, your useless body being used this way.

He glides his hands over your legs as if to admire them. "Even this hurts, doesn't it?"

It does.

"You would be good for me anyway."

You would.

He presses his thumb into a deep bruise and you struggle to remain still and calm.

"How does it feel? Betrayed by your body. Weak. And your mind. Vulnerable." He moves a thumb over your lips.

"Good," you breathe.

He gives a wicked grin. "You want to surrender yourself. So easily."

You can't deny it.

"You take what I give you."

"Yes," you tell him.

"When I hurt you... tell me. I can feel it."

"It excites me."

"You see now why the Force brought us together. You crave submission just as I desire control."

You feel harmony between you. One energy engulfing the other, freeing each other in the Force.

"Stay open to me. Follow my voice. I will give you what you crave," he says to you and you hang on each word. "Feel the pain in your body. I know the wounds are deep and internal. The bacta has saved you, but you have much healing to do. There are tears deep within you, feel their edges. Feel the fire of your body fighting to continue on. This is your strength. Do not let it leave you. Hold onto this pain, it proves your survival. It makes you stronger

It is a searing heat in your gut. A dull aching in your legs. Your right shoulder feels as though glass has embedded itself. There it is- you're angry. Angry you suffer. Good. Embrace it," he implores, eyes wide. "Are you angry with me? For showing you this pain? Good. Hate me. It is easy, isn't it? To hate me for showing you who you really are? You want this pain. I can feel it."

He runs his hands over your skin again. Where his hands trace pricks of pain arouse your senses.

"The beauty of pain is that it shows us what pleasure truly is."

He smooths the back sides of his hands over the same skin, soothing it.

"You want more of that, I can feel it. So hungry, so desperate for peace. I will give you your peace if you pay the price."

"Deal."

"So willing. You don't know what you've agreed to. Very well."

His hands tense over your body and electricity crackles over your skin. The sensation is intense and sharp, taking you out of your dull healing pains. Your reflexes tell you to yelp but your voice fails you.

"Now you see. Real pain. At my control."

"Intense," is all you can say.

"Will you take the pain with the pleasure?" he asks, brow cocked and sure of your answer.

"Please."

"Please, Master?"

"Please, Master."

"Say to me: Please, Master, I am strong enough to endure the pain of pleasure."

Your breath shudders. "Please, Master, I am strong enough to endure the pain of pleasure."

"Very good. For today, you will become my slave. I will control you."

"Thank you, Master," you tell him.

You feel an electric hum between your legs unlike anything you've felt before. You soak yourself. He shocks you lightly and you arch up off the bed. He gently caresses your breasts and kisses your mouth. He rakes his nails over your bruised arms. You whine in protest. He shushes you. A hand reaches between your thighs and circles your clit over your clothing. He bites at your neck as he does this. It's enough to make you a mess. A sharp jolt of electricity throws you further into ecstasy. His hand slips under your clothing and he prods one thick finger into you.

"This is what you get, if you will come is up to you," he purrs, adding to your desperation.

He toys with you, sprinkling mild electric shocks over your body as he fucks you.

You finish as he delivers two particularly sharp shocks to your breasts.

"Such a masochist! Oh, we will have fun," he threatens.

You return a blank, blissed-out stare. Your body relaxes deeply and sleep finally takes hold.

Chapter Text

Your days at the retreat on Tython have grown busier. Most of your wounds have fully healed. A team of physical therapists and trainers are helping you build up your strength beyond what it has ever been before. You feel war on the horizon and you will be ready. But for now, you are spending your evening wandering the retreat grounds.

You find a secluded garden in a far corner. The large shrubs and trees that surround it give it a natural camouflage. A stone path leads to a natural hot spring. You descend.

Steam rises up from the pond in the cool evening air. You strip and neatly pile your clothing at the edge of the pool. You look over your healed body in the natural light. You can still see the fading ghost of a large scar on your abdomen.

You enter the water carefully. You find a comfortable rock and fold your legs into a lotus pose. You listen calmly to the sounds of the evening fauna. The heat of the spring beckons you to sleep, but you aren't really tired.

In the steam, an image begins to emerge. You become engulfed in a new environment - a private chamber styled with black decor. A window reveals the cold expanse of space outside of the vessel you seem to be aboard.

Darth Valor stands to your left. He walks into a running black-tiled shower. Steam clouds the room. He looks up sharply. His bright yellow eyes pierce yours. With a beckoning finger, he pulls you toward him. His wet hands trace over your exposed breasts.

"I've found you at a good moment," he smirks.

"Hot spring," you confirm.

He leans forward and whispers to you, "Enjoy it while you can."

He washes himself nonchalantly in front of you. You feel his eyes on you. This is the first time you've seen him undressed. His pale, toned body is scarred. Lightsaber burns. Blaster wounds. Ones you can't identify. Auburn hair covers his chest and trails down his stomach. His beard drips with water and his hair slicks to his head.

"Well, then. Are you going to be of use?" he asks.

"Tell me how, Master."

"Kneel," he drawls.

You sink to your knees on the hard, wet tile.

"If you want to finish, you'll do it before I do," he instructs. He presses his thumb against your lip and into your mouth, opening it wide.

You accept his cock, tasting shower water on your tongue, and suck. Water runs over his body as you bob your head on his shaft. He holds onto his base and caresses his balls. You reach between your legs circle your clit. You look up. His eyes are dark.

With his free hand he forms a fist. You feel pressure around your throat. It slowly grows tighter and tighter as you desperately suck. Your body gives, you orgasm. As pleasure wracks your body you try not to fail your Master. You suck and twirl your tongue and pray you are good enough to satiate the Sith.

His wrist curls as he comes down your throat and the air leaves your lungs entirely. He pushes you back and you kneel on your heels. You sputter and gasp as air returns to your lungs.

"We'll work on that," the Sith says as he strides past you into his chamber.

The dark room dissipates into steam once again. On Tython, the hot spring haze glows golden in the evening light. You notice an attendant at the top of the path and blush. What did she see? You don't know. You stand in the cool evening air and wrap yourself once again in your robes, then ascend the path to the waiting carer.

Chapter Text

You received your orders today. You will be leading troops on the ground. This is your last night on Tython before you ship out. The knowledge leaves you hollow. It isn't the place that you will miss, it is the peace. Conflict doesn't suit you. Long ago, with the guidance of wise Jedi Masters, you had come to accept taking life as part of your path. Killing comes with a sick feeling that you can never truly shake. As your body count grows, so does the feeling.

To shake it, you pace your expansive room. You draw your lightsaber. It hums. The familiar weight of the hilt and green glow soothe you. You practice drills. Over and over. Visualizing your adversaries and their weaknesses. You are very strong now, you can tell. The isolation of this training has suited you. At the academy, there was always someone better, someone to remind you of your place. Here, all that mattered was you: your form, your strength, your skill.

He emerges at the edge of your peripheral vision, arms folded over his chest, dark robes covering his head and draping to the floor. His black-pommeled hilt hangs from his belt. You draw your blade through the apparition. It splits and re-forms around the blade.

Unamused, he says, "Manners."

"They're sending me to the front," you gripe.

"Ah, I see."

You deactivate your lightsaber and face him squarely, unsure of his intentions.

"Show me what you have learned."

You hesitate. It somehow feels like an inappropriate request.

He notes your reserve. "You're going to need to be at the height of your power to survive the front you're being sent to. Are you going to die?" he asks, voice tinged with anger.

You refuse to answer. Instead, you ignite your lightsaber and begin demonstrating the flowing movements you have perfected in your time on Tython. The healers used Tai Chi to help your body heal, and the controlled, fluid movements unlocked a new side of dueling for you. You know that you have become very, very good. You can sense his approval.

As you pass near him, his red saber ignites and slices through your calf.

"Dirty move," you chastise.

"Every move is dirty in war," he retorts. "You have quite the form. Very civilized."

"Thank you."

"It isn't a compliment," he snaps, "I can sense your strength and you are letting it go to waste. Your life will end on a battle field under droid treads because you're too scared of it to even train at full power," he drawls. "It will not be there when the moment comes if you don't know how to call upon it." His saber hums at his thigh.

You reignite yours between you. He lunges. You deflect. You drive him back with a series of well-placed blows. He sweeps his blade low and you dodge it, but lose your footing. He rains blows down on you viciously. Panic floods your nervous system.

"Pathetic," he shouts.

You steel yourself. You channel your focus down your blade and steady your stance. You deliver slashes which send him dancing back, unable to find an opening.
You finish with a lunge.

His lightsaber catches you at the throat. You can almost feel its hum.

"Kneel," he commands.

You drop to your knees. His blade remains pointed at your throat.

"Strip."

You drop the hilt of your lightsaber beside you. You open your top and let it slide off of you. His blade follows you as you stand to remove your skirts and undergarments. You kneel, nude. His red blade illuminates your body.

"I am merciful," he purrs, "I could drag this blade through your throat and end this. Instead I am giving you the opportunity to redeem yourself."

"You are merciful, Master," you repeat.

"You will do as I say, because you have lost, and this is what you owe me."

"I will do as you say, Master."

"Because?" he prompts.

"Because I have lost a-"

"Do better. You know why you have lost, don't insult me," he spits.

"Merciful Master, I will do as you say because I fear my own power and I am weak. I lost to you, and this is my redemption."

"You aren't redeemed yet," he laughs.

His demeanor shifts. You straighten your posture. Your nipples are hard under the red light.

He speaks, "Open your mouth. Show me your tongue. Good. Let me see you drool, pet."

His blade hovers over your tongue. Spit runs down it and drips from the tip. It slides down your body, leaving a trail to amuse the Sith. He holds you here until your own spit runs down to your pussy.

"All fours," he instructs plainly.

You lean forward slowly, following his saber.

"Arch your back," he commands. "Head up, chest forward." His lightsaber dances over your body as it guides you into his desired position. Your body strains to please him. The lightsaber passes over your rear. "You're wet," he observes, "Soaking on both ends. Desperate thing, aren't you?"

He positions his blade parallel to your throat.

"For me, you will give into your desires. You will not allow yourself to fall into my blade. You will find the power you require, or you will fail." He relishes the prospect of your failure.

You gyrate your hips tentatively. You balance on one hand and your knees to spread the wetness of your spit trail over your vulva. You slide your fingers over your lips. You work your way up to your clit and circle slowly. You stare at his boots before you.

You shift your gaze up. His boots, his lightsaber, his hands, his belt, his collar, his hood, his red-rimmed eyes staring down at you. You cannot break his gaze.

You lift your other hand from the ground and support yourself with the Force.

He quirks his lip, amused. Perhaps these aren't the rules he had in mind... but he doesn't mind the show.

You thrust into yourself with two fingers as your other hand attends to your clit. You rock pathetically on your own hands, arching your back intensely to avoid the red blade in front of you. The darkness in his eyes draws you in, deeper and deeper. You climax, panting. You drop your hands to the ground and your shoulders heave just above the lightsaber blade.

He eyes you coolly. "You will remember this lesson," he tells you. Then, in quick succession, he moves the blade away and brings his boot down between your shoulders. His lightsaber ghosts down through your neck as if to decapitate. He disappears.

Chapter Text

As your shuttle lands, you feel a disturbance. You exit the craft to an empty landing pad. The astromech droid pilots the shuttle back to the orbital station. You cross the landing pad. That's when the blaster fire begins.

First comes a wave of droids. They approach in a semi-circle formation, firing clumsily. You rush to one end and begin dismantling them one by one with your lightsaber. You deflect blaster fire from across the landing pad back. Several droids take out their own as they fire on you weaving through their line.

Just as you finish with the droids, a grenade detonates near you. You stifle the blast with the Force. A team of separatist commandos lurks along the path to your assigned outpost.

You attack the grenadier, deftly running him through, his armor no match for a lightsaber. Blaster fire rains down on you as you stand over his body. You spin your blade in a protective umbrella. You retreat, drawing their fire to a singular point in front of you. You run up the rocky terrain to one side of the ambush and begin dismantling the riflemen. The sensation of your lightsaber spearing their guts leaves you queasy. You haven't been on the planet for an hour but your body count is four and counting.

You steel yourself behind an outcropping of rock as the other half of the ambush fire on your position. Crossing the path will be treacherous. You can wait here and try to deflect fire to take them out or hope they grow impatient and advance so you can attack from the upper ground. Something tells you you have to be the one to advance.

You emerge, deflecting blaster fire. An icy rage takes hold. You charge across the path. They hold position and fire on you. You breach their line and slice the first in two. Another you wound severely. You split the last one's head in two. It is gruesome but you don't take note. You spear the wounded through the spine. Your rage dissipates as he dies.

You follow the path at a distance. You notice traps on the path. Three waves of attack. They knew you might survive. They knew they were sacrificing their droids, their grenadier, their commandos.... all for you. To prevent you from reaching your command. If anything was left of it. If not, in the best case scenario, you will be forced to fight alone for days.

You reach the outpost and scout the area. Separatists scavenge the camp. An officer lurks by the command tent. You creep up behind him and jam your lightsaber hilt into the small of his back. You choke him with your other arm.

"Tell me what you have done with my men," you demand.

"We attacked. They retreated," he sputters.

"Any wounded?"

"One. Inside. Our medical droid is his only chance of making it. Go quietly and he will live."

You release your choke hold. The officer draws his blaster and attempts to fire at your stomach. You run him through before he has a chance. His blaster fire alerts the others who converge on you between the command tent and the power generator.

You cut through them. One loses his hand before his head. Another is shot in the back by his comrade. You advance over four fallen bodies to take on another five. When they hit the ground another small unit runs at you from the remote corner of the camp. You wonder what they expect their fate to be as you disarm the fourth of their unit and slash through his armor. The fifth runs, revealing the position of a group of unarmored scavengers who draw their blasters and begin firing to cover him. You deflect their fire back onto them, wounding several. You reach the rifleman who ran and cut him down, then turn your attention to the unfortunate Separatist lackeys. Various species, no uniforms. Just regulation blasters between themselves and your blade. You hunt them down to the last.

You withdraw your lightsaber blade and hook it to your belt. You trek across the outpost to the medical tent. Inside, a Republic clone lies on a cot, hooked up to some kind of portable machinery. You lift him with the Force and carry him on your back.

As you trek to the next outpost he wanders in and out of consciousness.

"They made it out," you tell him in a moment of lucidity.

"I thought I was dead."

"Not yet."

"So, you did make it after all, Jedi."

"No thanks to the Separatists."

"You don't say."

"Three stage ambush- Droids, commandos, land mines. And then I took out the camp."

"No survivors, huh?"

"Just you."

The machine clicks and he loses consciousness. You can feel his heart beat slowly. Not far ahead, the sun sets over the next outpost.

You reach the encampment to find men dining on ration packs. Three startle at the sight of you and collect the man on your back. A fourth runs into a tent and returns with a clone in command striped armor.

"Jedi. Glad you've made it," he approaches with his hand outstreched.

You accept the handshake. "What happened?"

"Droids marched on our position around midday. Too many to take. We got the hell out of there. Sent a transmission to re-route your shuttle, I guess it didn't go through. Sorry about that."

"We'll have to find out how they intercepted. This was a trap designed for me. Droids met me at the landing pad, then they ambushed on the path. There are still land mines between the shuttle pad and the outpost. Was there anything valuable left at the outpost?"

"Just our scout, and you've brought him back. Grateful for that."

"Let's hope he makes it."

"Hell of a day for you. Facilities are over there," he points, "And your shelter is in the trenches over that way," he gestures toward a tree line.

You nod and trudge off to take a shower. You change into light camouflage trousers and a tunic. You find the metal grate entrance to the trenches. They are covered in camouflage and the evening light filters through the faux foliage. You find your shelter. Inside is a padded sleeping mat on top of a storage unit. It's packed with rations, medpacks, toiletries, and clothing. A computer sits in one corner and there is space to meditate beside it.

You stretch and meditate before climbing into your bed. As you sink into the mat you hear his voice.

"You were victorious today," he says, impressed.

"I survived," you reply calmly.

"You did far more than survive. 27 dead. Never mind the droids. That's quite impressive, Jedi."

"I was ambushed..."

"You didn't have to attack the outpost, though," he chastises.

"I needed to know what became of my men," you remind him resolutely.

"You easily could have tracked them down."

"I saved the scout."

"From imprisonment, yes. But you also risked his life. You didn't know his condition. If you had left them alone, he would have stayed in their care until they moved him to a prison camp. Eventually, he would be returned in an exchange. But instead, you killed 20 Separatists."

"The officer forced my hand."

"Just how sure are you that he intended to shoot?"

"I... couldn't take that risk," you decide.

"You made a choice," he concludes slyly.

"A choice. That saved the life of my scout. And I will sleep well knowing that Separatist detachment won't be bothering us."

"Don't hide from me, it won't work," he laughs, "I felt your rage. Very clearly."

"I hate killing."

"It seems to me you've only just developed a taste for it. You took more because you wanted more."

"It's war, Darth Valor. War."

"And you will win this war if you stay true to this path. You did well today. You deserve a reward."

"Reward?"

"Mmm, yes. You're clean and relaxed in bed now, aren't you? Surely you deserve a moment of pleasure... or two. War is long and hard, don't take this for granted."

"Okay."

"Good. I am your Master, remember. I'll give you what you deserve."

"Yes, Master."

"I want you to feel your body. Think about its power, about what it did for you today. Bring your hands down to your stomach. Now down over your sex," the word 'sex' rolls off his tongue beautifully.

Your vulva feels full and warm under your hand. You move with gentle pressure over the crotch of your trousers, basking in the luxurious feeling.

"Notice how you feel. Notice how your body is telling you what it wants. You deserve to take what you want, today, darling."

His praise excites you.

"Go on, take it."

You slip your hand under your waistband and circle your clitoral hood. You repeat the circle rhythmically as you become wetter and wetter. Once your clit becomes lubricated, you give it more dedicated attention.

"Focus on what you want," his voice instructs.

You picture his eyes. They are bright gold and rimmed in red. They seem to glow with golden Force. They see deeply into you. You bring yourself to climax.

As you come, he speaks, "We aren't done."

Obediently, you continue circling your clit tightly.

"Slower now," he instructs.

You relax into languid circles over your lips.

"Breathe with me," he instructs, "in... 2... 3... 4. Out... 2... 3... 4."

You breathe together as you ride out the last of your climax.

"Touch yourself lower, now."

You press the flat of your fingers into the wetness below your clit and continue the circular movements.

"You can feel your entrance aching, can't you?" he asks gently.

"Yes, Master."

"You will give your hole what it wants. And when you come, I want to hear you thank me for allowing you to take what you deserve. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"Very good," he praises.

You stroke yourself up and down. Your fingers work their way to your entrance. You tease yourself gently, alternating between your sensitive entrance and your lips. You circle your entrance with pressure. Then, slowly, you press your middle finger into yourself. Your swollen walls bear down on your finger, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You fuck yourself until you crave another finger. You stroke quickly three times and then slowly two until your cravings tell you to move at a steady, quick rhythm. You bring yourself to climax again.

You struggle to produce the words, "Thank you, Master. Thank you, Master. Thank you, M-Master... for... allowing me to take-" your body jolts "-take what I... deserve."

"Once more, quickly now," he demands.

You speed your thrusts and press into your overstimlated G spot.

"Use your other hand on your clit, let me see you come hard," he purrs.

You rapidly slide your fingers over your clit as you fuck yourself. Soon, the intensity floods your body and you arch off of the bed. Your thighs clamp together and you ride your hands through the most intense waves of orgasm.

"Thank you," you whisper exhausted.

"You earned it," he smiles.

As you drift off to sleep you hear him say, "I look forward to your many future victories."

Chapter Text

Over the course of weeks, you settle into your command position. You lead your clone troops in the capture of Separatist positions. You finally capture their base. You lose five in the process, but you knew the risks, and your victory is decisive. The sole Separatist survivors escaped into the hills around the base. Now, you are waiting them out.

A comms tech approaches you with a holo message. A Republic General instructs you to ready your post for the arrival of officials from Coruscant and a change of command.

Their shuttle lands and a small contingent of men give them a tour of your captured positions. When they reach the captured base, you greet the party with your men behind you in formation. A clone Commander approaches you and shakes your hand firmly. He tells you he is to be your replacement. A second clone introduces himself as the new second-in-command. Then, a black-robed Sith approaches. Your men still. Darth Valor's red-rimmed eyes fix yours cooly. You try to stifle the recognition in your eyes. He addresses the troops.

"You have all served the Republic valiantly. You have rid Balmorra of Separatists," he pronounces 'Separatists' with disdain. "Your new command will now lead you in fortifying and rebuilding this planet."
He turns to you.
"Honorable Jedi Knight, it is my privilege to award you this medal of conquest," he says, producing a medal from his robe. He approaches you and you bow your head. He places the medal around your neck. "The New Republic Government recognizes your skill and service and has need of you on Coruscant." He takes his leave and ascends the ramp of a shuttle.

You spend the next few hours orienting the new command team. After, you collect your things and leave on the last shuttle of the night. You find your way to your designated ship. A service droid greets you and shows you aboard. As you relax in the lounge during lift off, you are overcome by a deep sense of unease. In deep space, you sense a presence approaching. The door slides open to reveal Darth Valor. Icy tension grips your body.

"Welcome aboard, Jedi," he says.

You stand. "Darth Valor. Thank you for the honor," you say, indicating your medal.

"It's good to see that you are wearing it, some Jedi prefer false modesty," he muses.

"I travel light, not many places to keep it anyway."

He chuckles.

"I wasn't aware- This is your ship?" you ask.

"Yes. A personal gift from the government of Naboo, in fact. I wanted to share your company on the journey back to Coruscant."

You eye him cautiously. His walls are firmly up, his mind inscrutable to you, and you don't feel him probing in return.

His eyes darken.

"What about me... interests you?"

"You have served me very well," he purrs. "You have liberated a planet and, in doing so, you have freed yourself from your role as soldier. I believe you are worthy of training."

"Training," you repeat breathlessly.

"It is your choice, of course. Should you accept, I will train you as I see fit, and at the end of our time together you will be offered a choice to continue down this path, or return to your role in the war."

"The path... of the dark side?" you whisper.

He smiles cruelly and strokes your face with a black gloved hand. "You have walked that path, my darling, and the Force has brought you to me."

"I'm a Jedi-"

"Do not lie to me. Do not lie to yourself. What do you believe has forged our connection?"

"You know," you reply, relieved.

"And So. Do. You. No more pretense, not with me. I have seen your mind."

"And you would train me..."

"To be of service, as you crave."

Your mind is flooded with memories of

"Yes," you answer.

"Yes?"

"Yes, I want you to train me."

The Sith Lord cocks an eyebrow.

"Yes, I want you to train me. Master," you amend.

"Good," he drawls "For now, you will be my pet. How does that sound, my pet?"

"It feels right."

He hooks a finger under your medal and draws you to him. His lips press to your ear and speaks, "You are mine now."

You press your body into his and he sucks at your neck. He smells of linen and leather. His touch is a thousand times amplified the ghost of your dreams. Your knees weaken.

You both doff your robes and belts feverishly. You feel his arousal pressing against you through his leather leggings. He pushes you down onto a couch. His knee stakes between your thighs, keeping them open. You grind against him as you make out, his hand supporting the back of your neck.

"I'm going to take you, pet."

You push down your pants. His broad fingers delve into your folds. He spreads your wetness over your clit and circles it with his thumb. You stifle a yelp of pleasure. He responds gutturally.

He heaves you up with his right arm under the small of your back. With the other, he lifts your leg to curl around his hips. He guides himself into you. He is warm and thick inside you. He slides his hand down your thigh and grasps your buttock. The hand on your back moves up to hold your neck.

He pumps into you steadily. You crane your head back, exposing your throat. He sucks at your larynx, beard scratching at your delicate skin. You drive your hips into him.

He speeds up. You feel your eyes go blank. He soothes your sweaty face before prodding his right thumb into your panting mouth. You suck sloppily, overcome with pleasure. You feel his mounting pleasure as well. It sends you over the edge. As you ride out your orgasm, he comes deep inside you.

He dresses himself and then pulls up your leggings. You feel his come leak into them. He picks you up and carries you to your quarters, placing you on the bed. "You've done very well for me," he tells you as he leaves.

Chapter Text

He wakes you early the next morning. He tells you to ready yourself and meet him on the lower level of the ship.

"Training begins today," he says joyfully.

You descend the ramp to the lower level. Dim orange lights illuminate a corridor that extends in two directions. To the right are two closed doors. To your left is a force-field-protected room. Darth Valor stands, almost hidden in the shadows, directly in front of you.

"We will train in the brig," he instructs.

You nod and he lowers the force field for you to enter. He follows you.

The room is large and illuminated by red lights embedded in the walls. There's a control system by the gate. Behind it is a table. To the right are two cells. Beside them, a rack. You've rescued men tortured out of their minds on such racks before. It's a chilling sight. Beside it is a Bacta tank. Not encouraging. In the far right corner, there is an empty space. Crates are stacked against the far side of the console. Darth Valor stands gracefully at the center of it all. He beckons you.

You stand in front of him, expectantly.

"Please kneel," he says, gesturing to the ground with a black-gloved hand. His robes sway.

You sink to your knees as you had in his shower long ago.

"On one knee," he says with a smirk.

You adjust your position, draping an arm over your thigh and bowing your head.

"This is how you will begin your training sessions," he speaks over you. "During raining, you will refer to me only as Master. You are not to refer to yourself as anything other than my pet, because that is what you are. When asked a question, you will answer me. When given an instruction, you will obey. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"What questions do you have?"

"What happens if I... don't."

He smiles cruelly. "That depends entirely on the infraction, but I do recommend that you avoid finding out."
The Sith Lord lowers his hood.
"Today, your lesson is on choice. You have chosen to be here, pet. And today I will offer you another choice." His voice is even and dripping with tension.
"Please stand."

You stand.

"You will not need your clothing today, pet. Remove it for me."

You carefully undress before him. Your fold your clothes neatly and leave them on the ground before you. He leads you to the empty corner of the room. He points to a place on the ground.

"Stand here."

You stand alone, nude, in the corner of the room about three feet from any wall.

He enters a command into the console and with a ban. You wince. You watch as he calmly opens a crate and withdraws restraints.
He approaches you, hand outstretched, to give you the restraints.

"Put these on."

You lock the restraints around your ankles and wrists. He connects cables to them.

"Test those for me."

You pull against the restraints. Your hands above you have a few inches of movement. You can move your feet from side to side and stand on the balls of your feet, but no more than that.

"Good. Now for a choice." He extends his hands. He holds two floggers. The one in his left hand has metal tips. "Right or left?"

"Right, Master."

He throws the flogger to the floor and wields the metal tipped one.

"You may consider this cruel," he muses, "but this is indeed the choice you made. Isn't that right?"

"No, Master, I chose the other one."

"It's a shame you do not see. You did make this choice. You chose the right. And you made a choice when you did not ask: whose right? You assumed it was your own, but it was mine," he taunts. "Do you understand now?"

"I didn't know that I could ask, Master."

"Have I ever instructed you to be silent?" he asks cooly.

"No, Master."

"Good, then you have been paying attention. If you have something to say, you will say it. And now, my answer? Do you understand now?"

"Yes, Master."

"And did you choose this?" he says, holding it up coyly.

"This was my choice, Master."

"And is this the pain that you want?" he asks darkly.

A shiver runs through you. "It is, Master."

He twirls the flogger and strikes your breasts. You cry out. He continues, circling your body, delivering stinging strikes to your chest, bum, and back. You settle in and grow quiet. You squirm in your restraints and feel yourself becoming wet.

He returns to your front and delivers a final strike to your breasts. He wipes a tear from your cheek and locks eyes with you.
"Good choice," he says proudly.
He turns his back on you and gives the console a new command. A black rod emerges from the floor between your feet. He takes a round, black object from the crates. He fixes it to the top of the rod. It presses into your clit, vibrating.

"On your toes," he commands.

You lift your body, pulling away from the vibe.

"The rule is, as long as you are on your toes, I will not hurt you."

You notice the fatigue growing in your legs, but you are fit. You know that you can last some time.

"However," he continues "you will not come. But if you allow me to give you pain, I'll allow you to come."

You remain still for a moment, gazing into his inscrutable fiery eyes. You allow your body a moment to savor the cool air around you. Then you lower your feet.

He grins and twirls the flogger again. This time, he goes slower, striking you at random so as to surprise you as you grind into the black vibe.

A particularly nasty swing bites into your back and you yelp. You rise to the balls of your feet and behind you, the strikes stop.

"Disappointing," he laments. He circles back to watch your expression as you struggle to stay up. Your thighs shake and clench. You feel the ache the floggers have left you with even in their absence. "I can feel it, you know," he tells you.

"What can you feel, Master?" you groan.

"All of it. How desperate you are. How close. How much pain. How much you savor that pain. Can you not feel my enjoyment?"

"I can," you confess.

"It fuels you. My satisfaction." He steps closer and purrs into your ear, "Your suffering."

You lower yourself onto the vibe, jolting as your sensitive clit makes contact.

He runs a gloved hand over your stomach. "That's my pet."

You hold on by a thread, waiting for the impact you want to drive you over the edge. When he finally delivers, you come, shaking and pulling against your restraints. He does not relent until you are well and truly through.

"Tell me, pet, have you learned something about the importance of your choices today?"

"I have, Master. Thank you."

He neatly packs away the floggers and releases your cables with a command. You stretch.

"Can you walk?" he asks, offering an arm.

"I can," you say, lightly taking his hand.

He guides you to the table. He lifts each wrist and removes the restraints. You lift your ankles and he removes those as well. He looks you over.

"An hour in the Bacta tank will do."

He walks with you to the tank and fixes the respirator over your face.

"I will be back when the tank has done its work," he promises. You enter the tank. He leaves, sealing the force field behind him.

Chapter Text

The next day, he wakes you in your room and instructs you to meet him in the brig once again. You stretch and shower and meet him in the underbelly of the ship.

"Hello, pet," the Sith Lord greets you.

You drop to one knee and respond. "Hello, Master."

"Are you feeling well today?" he asks.

"I've fully recovered from yesterday, Master."

"Good. I'm trying to teach you, not kill you," he says matter-of-factly.

This reminds you just how possible the second option would be.

"Today, your task will be to embrace your desires, pet. Not the easy ones, no. The dark ones."

Your mind replays a series of battlefield kills. Men on the front line you were all too ready to cut down. Desperate mechanics you didn't bother to take prisoner. These were the choices you made with your life, your mens' lives, at stake. Balancing feeling with Jedi teaching was how you survived and conquered a planet. You grew to understand your rage, your bloodlust. But they are yours.

"I will not kill-"

Darth Valor smiles. "I haven't asked you to. That is not what your training is for, pet. I hardly need to train you to kill. No, today you will be honest with me about what your body craves most."

"Yes, Master."

"Yesterday, did the pain I inflicted make your orgasm better or worse?"

"Better."

"When you come, you desire pain?"

"I do, Master."

"You crave to be weakened. Pushed to the brink of what your body will withstand."

You swallow hard. The brink.

"It takes time to accept the way these desires must be honored. Your body will resist. Your mind will resist first. You must allow your desires to guide you above all else."

"I will honor my desire, Master."

"Rise," he instructs.

He guides you past the prison cells to the torture rack. He straps you in, fully clothed.

He runs a crooked finger over your cheek and tells you, "Now, I'm going to leave. While I am gone, you will make yourself aware of what your body wants. You will imagine all of the things that I might do to you. When I return, you will tell me exactly what it is that you desire."

You aren't sure how long he leaves for but you have time to imagine all manner of wicked scenarios.

He saunters into the brig and commands, "Pet, tell me what desires have you discovered within yourself."

"I don't care what you do to me, Master, I just want it to hurt."

"Well that is very good, because it will," he assures you. "Tell me why you want it to hurt."

"My body is tiring of the restraints and craving distracting pain. It is cathartic. It brings me pleasure," you answer.

"That is a good answer. 'I don't care' is not. I'll ask again this time, after all it is only day two. What kind of pain do you want?"

You adjust yourself in your restraints. You reply, "Something deep. Something that aches dully long after impact."

"That can be arranged."
He crosses the room to the crates and comes back with a simple black rod. He tests it against the palm of his hand.
"A baton will do nicely, don't you think?"

"Yes, Master."

He strikes your thigh and watches your expression, calculating. He delivers strike after strike. You become wetter. He strikes at your breasts and you audibly wince. He continues. You writhe against the restraints. He takes a long pause to circle the rack. "Feel what you have asked for, let it sink in," he instructs.

Then, he delivers a swift cruel strike to your stomach. Your body tries to convulse and you shout in pain.

"There it is. Good. Embrace it."

He strikes at your thighs before returning his attention to your breasts. He drives the baton into your chest, pinning you against the rack and threatening to crush your ribs. Tears form in your eyes as you breathe painfully. You can see his eyes. He isn't quite looking at you, he is somewhere else. His own mind. You're just a toy. One he enjoys breaking.

He strikes you with an open palm across the face before relenting.

"You are far from your limit, my pet. You are going to take more."

"Yes, Master," you affirm.

He stands back. The air crackles. His hands slowly begin to spark. After what feels like an eternity, he directs lightning at your restrained body. You arch away from the rack. Your clothes do little to protect you from the shocks. He continues, varying intensity and duration. When he stops, it's almost worse. With each shock your body loses strength. He delivers four shocks, the strongest you've felt yet. Three in rapid succession. The fourth prolonged. When he finishes, he steps forward. Your head rolls to your shoulder. He grabs the hair at the top of your head and looks you in the eye. His eyes are intense.

"This is what your desires have brought you."

"Thank you, Master."

"You will have to live with the consequences," he tells you dispassionately as he releases the restraints.

You collapse to the floor, struggling to hold yourself on all fours.

He gazes down at you. "Kneel," he commands.

You struggle as you bring yourself into position: one knee up, arm draped over it, head bowed. Your ankle shakes under the strain.

"That will be all for today. Return to your quarters."

You feel his attention as he watches you painfully stand and make your way out of the brig.

Chapter Text

Darth Valor wakes you the next morning. He stands in your doorway, a black-robed figure illuminated from behind. He asks simply, "Can you walk?"

You are sore and stiff. You can feel the bruises that formed over night. You wince as you sit up. You stand. You cross the room slowly. "It seems I can."

"Good. Then training begins now. Follow me." He leads the way to the brig.

You follow him, still in your pyjamas. In the brig, he removes his robe and his gloves. He drapes his robe over the metal table, folding the hood in at one end. He places his gloves at a corner. Then, he attends to you. He undoes the belt of your shirt. He slowly unwraps your top and slides the clothing over your shoulders, discarding it at the foot of the table. He slides your pants down and over each foot, maintaining eye contact. The care in his motions unnerves you.

"I want you to lie on the table for me. Face down. Can you do that?"

You lift yourself onto the table, bearing most of your weight on your unbruised arms. You lie your head on his hood.

He speaks over your body. "Today, I am training you in submission, pet. More than pain or pleasure - and they really are the same to you aren't they? - what you desire is to submit. To free yourself of the burden of your own choices and place them in the hands of one more powerful than yourself. After all, that is why you thought of me after I killed the Jedi Master. Not in spite of the fact that I killed her, no, but because in doing so, I proved my power. You desired to submit to me. Through the Force, you called to me."

The air around you is cool and the table beneath you is hard. Your bruised breasts ache under the pressure of your own body. You are helpless against the truth of his words.

"Submission means putting yourself in my hands. That is what you will do today." He pours oil over your back. "You will not come until I tell you to come. You will not beg. You will wait. You will trust my judgement. It is superior than yours, isn't that right, pet?"

"Your judgement is superior, Master," you incant.

His graceful hands smear the oil over your back. As it sinks in, it heightens your sense of touch. The cool air feels white-hot. A faint prickling sensation emerges. You are not uncomfortable, you are simply aware. The touch of his hands slowly becomes overwhelming. He works his way from the small of your back up your spine to the tops of your shoulders and down your arms. He pauses to revisit your shoulder blades. Your exhausted muscles welcome it.

He continues, rubbing oil over the soles of your feet, ankles, and up your calves to the crooks of your knees where his thumbs massage your sensitive flesh. He continues up your thighs. Your relaxation turns into arousal. He pools oil at the base of your spine and massages it over your buttocks.

"Tell me how you feel, pet."

"Strange," you reply, "and aroused."

"Good girl."

Wetness grows between your thighs. He takes his time. He traces his fingers along the contours of your body. He spreads his palms over your waist and you gasp at the heightened feeling.

"Every inch of you is mine," he drawls.

"Yes, Master," you encourage.

He draws his attention to your bum and thighs. He gropes at your cheeks. You arch on the table slightly, wanting more. He plays with your thighs, taunting you. He draws small circles at the tops of your thighs. You imagine how they'd feel on your clit. Your body shudders.

"Close already?" he teases, "You had better be careful."

He continues drawing intricate shapes over your skin. He collects one of his black leather gloves and draws it along your skin as well. Your mind becomes empty. Then he instructs you to turn over. The sensation of the robe's textile on your sensitive skin is almost too much. While you wince, he carefully drapes the hood over your face, blacking out your vision. You sense his position through the force. You feel his hands before they touch your body.

He runs his dry hands over your skin. As he does, you imagine the effect of the oil on your bruised skin. But his touch is infuriatingly gentle. He draws more and more arousal out of you. You shudder again, clenching your thighs over your neglected pussy. They ache.

"You bear pain gracefully," the Sith Lord commends.
"If you are good for me, pet, I'll allow you to use the bacta tank as a reward. It will make tomorrow easier," he trails off.

"Thank you, Master, I'll be good."

He drips oil over your bruises. The drops do not sting. They seem to simply draw your attention to to the pain, making it impossible to notice anything else. He allows the drops to sink in as he massages your unbruised skin. You stifle an orgasm as he finishes massaging the oil into your inner thighs. He firmly runs his hand over your stomach, smearing the drops of oil and sending a wave of pain through your body. A desperate 'oh' escapes your lips.

"Spread your legs," he instructs nonchalantly.

He spreads oil over your outer lips. His palm grazes your clitoral hood as he oils your pubic mound. He massages deeply over your hips. Your vulva swells. He places his hand at the top of one thigh and circles his thumb over your clit, occasionally stroking down and back up to spread your own wetness further. With his other hand, he teases your sore stomach and breasts. He does this until you feel yourself tense, out of control, on the edge.

"You're not going to come now, pet."

The tension dissipates, but your are still desperately aroused. He places his thumb above your clit and cups your vulva in his hand. His fingers fuck your folds until you find your hips lifting off the table involuntarily.

"Hear my voice. Do as I say," he commands.

He slips his ring and middle finger into your hole and strokes your G spot. Your abdomen tenses.

"I want you to fuck yourself on my fingers, now, pet."

He holds his hand firmly against your pelvis as you grind against it. Your breathing grows rapid under his hand.

"You are going to come for me...." he trails off.

Something in your mind unlocks, there's no stopping this time. You roll your hips intently.

"Now," he growls.

He fucks you as you come on his hand, on his robe. He offers a few, slow strokes as you finish and with draws his hand.

You feel sweaty and lightheaded. Your pussy drips.

"Thank you, Master."

"You've earned your reward well, my pet."

He supports your body as you stand and walk to the the tank. "You'll be healed soon," he says. With this promise, you will your tired body into the tank.

Chapter Text

In the brig, you kneel before Darth Valor. He speaks over you in a low voice.

"Tell me, are you taking to your training, pet?"

"I am, Master," you reply.

"Then, we'll begin today's session. Undress."

You comply. He guides you to the open corner of the room. Cables hang from the ceiling. He positions you beneath them. He positions your arms behind your head, bent at the elbow. You feel a cable wrap around your wrists, then over your elbows. His fingers brush your skin as he wraps and knots the cables around your body. He proceeds to your chest and hips. With a gesture, the cables lift you off the ground. He folds your ankle up to your thigh and continues his knot work. With another wave of his hand, you hang, suspended, facing the ground.

"Tell me how you feel," he commands.

"Helpless," you admit.

"You are," he laughs. "You're my toy. You will serve me as I please."

"Yes, Master."

He stands back and unwraps his belt, then his top. He undresses completely as you watch, trapped in his web. He stands in front of you and prods his thumb into your mouth for you to suck. He opens your mouth. Slowly, he slides into your mouth, moaning in pleasure as your tongue accepts him. He rocks his hips slowly, gradually increasing his pace. You suck enthusiastically as he guides your head with a fistful of your hair. He slows again and withdraws.

"Drool," he instructs.

You let spit fall out of your open mouth. He opens his hand below you, pooling the spit in his hand. He strokes himself, slicking his cock with your drool. He disappears behind you. You feel the tip of his head at your wet entrance. He pushes in. He fucks you in firm, steady strokes. You feel the cables binding you shift and dig in as he moves your body. You tense your thighs.

He withdraws only to insert his fingers. He plays with your clit as he toys with your hole. When he feels you nearing climax he enters again. He places one hand over your clit circling it with a firm thumb. The other hand he uses to hold a cable tied over your ass. He pulls you onto him over and over until you come on his cock. He continues. You feel your orgasm wearing off. The stimulation becomes too much. You cry out and he laughs.

"Is this more than you can take, pet?"

"No," you reply curtly.

"You make an excellent toy, pet."

You groan in response. He fucks you faster. Your overstimulation transforms into an intense pleasure. With a few firm strokes, he comes inside of you. He withdraws. He watches your combined fluids drip out of you. Your body carries itself over the edge without his touch. You squirm in your restraints until you grow tired, breathing heavily.

He approaches your face. He smooths a hand over your cheek and tells you, "You've served me well, toy. We will do this again."

"Thank you, Master."

He lets you down.

"Tomorrow will be your last day of training, pet. Do you remember our rules?"

"After tomorrow I'll decide if I want to continue, yes."

The Sith nods and leaves. You wrap yourself in your robe and return to your room to draw a bath.

Chapter Text

Today, you meet him in the lounge. He stands, black-robed, at the far side of the room. You kneel before him.

"My Master," you address him.

"This will be your final lesson," he instructs. "I believe the Force has connected you to me for a purpose."

"What purpose, Master?"

"That remains to be seen. We must each fulfill our role, and the Force will guide us. We must understand our bond. You must open your mind to me."

It's a chilling proposal, but your curiosity wins out. "Yes, Master."

"The walls the Jedi have taught you must come down."

You reach deep into your consciousness and let down the defenses shielding your mind. You sense the Sith's presence in the Force and you feel exposed.

He speaks through the Force, 'Good. It will not be enough to simply take down your defenses. You must still your mind and surrender control. Focus on what you want. I will find the way."

You meditate on the desires you have unleashed in your training. Gradually, the voice in your mind transforms into his.

'You will stand, now,' he communicates.

You rise. The sensation is strange, dreamlike. You are both in and out of your body at once. It moves as if pushed by water.

You stare into the Sith's red-rimmed eyes as your hands discard your robe. You are undressed slowly under his inscrutable gaze. You unwrap your tunic and slide your leggings down over each leg. Nude, you take a few steps to a black velvet couch. You lie on your back, exposed to him. Your head tips back and your eyes close.

The Force ripples darkly around you. Your open mind senses the core of the darkness within the Sith Lord. It is far stronger and deeper than he ever allowed you to sense. You feel the allure of the dark. Your mind draws closer to it.

Your hands trace over your body. They massage your breasts and wander lower. A finger traces over your outer lips gently teasing. 'So receptive,' he muses in your thoughts. Your fingers delve into your folds, spreading the wetness there. Two fingers circle your clit. Your back arches and you grope at your breast.

Your fingers slide down, entering you. They curl as they pump in and out. Your free hand reaches for your throat and squeezes your arteries. You come on your own fingers. Your hand releases your throat. Your slick fingers prod into your mouth and you suck your fluids from them.

Your body stands and collects the clothing that was discarded. You dress. He watches. You stand in front of him, close. His hand caresses your jaw. Your inner voice sounds like your own. You don't put up your walls. You feel the darkness emanating from him. He leans in, you return the kiss. Your thumb strokes his beard. You feel the full strength of the bond that ties you across space through the Force. The kiss ends and your bodies separate. You shield your mind.

"Kneel before me," he invites.

You obey.

"We are at the end of your training. You have a choice to make. If you decline, you will be returned to the temple on Coruscant without question. Do you understand?"

"I do, Master," you affirm. You sense no deception.

"I am going to share with you a passage from an old Sith text. If you know it to be true, repeat it back to me. It is important that you only recite these words if they are your truth."
He beings, "Because I am free, I have choice."

"Because I am free, I have choice," you echo.

"I choose to honor my desire."

You repeat the line.

"My desire is to surrender to submission," he purrs.

This is your desire, you repeat the line.

"And to submit in service of my Master."

You repeat the line.

"Because my Master guides me in my Purpose in the Force."

You repeat the line.

"This is the code of the Sith Slave. One bonded to a Sith Lord through the Force. Now is the time to decide, is this your path?"

You contemplate the choice. The memory of the deep core of magnetic darkness within the Sith beckons you.

"This is my path," you affirm.

"Then arise, Slave of the Sith Lord Valor."

You rise.