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Oct. 31st, 2003 06:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
valarltdPart of a round robin.
Takes too long to explain, so here's the link to the rest.
Obi-Wan is stuck in a brothel. Anakin is seperated from Aayla Secura, his partner. she's been seduced into darkness by Dooku. Padme has resuced an informat. Senators are in danger everywhere.
Obi-Wan tried to maintain his composure as the gaudy parade of pleasure partners in every species and gender rioted past him. Several had already made it known they were interested in more than the lightsaber at his belt. Just what did an estrus-9 receptive-nonfertile Clythoriam think it could do with a human anyway? He made his way to the office to negotiate with the owner.
She was seated behind a desk: a massive woman, apparently human, with red hair piled atop her head in a severe bun. “Talk to the bully-boys if you need a pleasurer,” she said, never looking up from her accounting pad.
“Actually, Mistress, it’s you I need to speak to. I need a room, but no partner.”
She looked up and saw the Jedi in her doorway, holding out a pouch of coins. She stood up, and up and up. Obi-Wan Kenobi was about the normal height for a human male, but found himself staring her straight in the impressive bosom.
“I haven’t seen a Jedi on Ord Mantell for a dozen years, boy. What brings you to Lelania’s? Other than a place to rest?” She resisted the urge to run a hand down the golden beard.
“My business is my own. I want a room for two hours and no disturbances.”
Lelania took the pouch and counted the coins. “Dear man, you haven’t enough here for an hour, let alone two.” She handed it back to him and looked him over again. “I don’t want trouble with the Jedi, but business is business, and I got problems of my own.” She went to sit back down, and reached for the pad again. As she studied the figures, she shook her head. “There’s no way. I can’t have a room out of commission for two hours at the price you’re offering.” She ran some numbers quickly. “However...”
Obi-Wan knew he didn’t like the look in her eye. “I’ll find another place.” He edged toward the door.
“No need. You can have my bedroom. It’s not in use, and I’ll fetch you after the two hours. But I expect payment at that time.” She stood up and parted the gold and rust curtains behind her. A huge bed, rumpled as if the satin sheets hadn’t been smoothed for days, loomed behind it.
“My thanks, Mistress Lelania.”
“Two hours, Jedi,” she said, this time succumbing to the temptation to lay one of her enormous hands along the side of his face. Her palm was soft, dry and smelled pleasantly spicy. Obi-Wan let her touch him, then went to the bed and drew the curtains. The sheets were clean and the mattress was comfortable with a slight dip in the center.
Kneeling quietly, he found his own center and began to meditate on the Force.
*****
Lexi Dio clutched the pilfered curtain her rescuer had wrapped her in and looked up at him as he set her gently on her feet. The rescue had been a whirlwind of flashing lightsaber, falling bodies and breakneck speed as Count Dooku had swept her away from the scene of her humiliation.
“Senator Dio,” he said gravely, bowing over her hand. “There are garments more befitting one of your dignity in the closet. It would give me great pleasure if you would join me for dinner.”
Lexi, treated like a senator once again, favored him with a gracious smile that held no warmth. “I am very grateful to you, Count Dooku, for your assistance in this time of trial. I will be pleased to join you for dinner.” She knew exactly how charming this man could be when he wanted to, and had resolved not to fall for any of his traps.
“Until then.” He sketched a small bow and left.
The Uyterian woman found the ‘fresher attached to the room, and after a long, very hot water shower, and a thorough sonic shower as well, emerged feeling cleaner than she had for days. In the closet, she found simple, elegant gowns well suited to her. She chose a rose one of Tykarran snailsilk, trimmed in pale Corellian bobbin-lace at the neck and sleeves.
On the vanity was a scent dispenser, and she programmed her favorite: bluevine flower with undertones of lerv wood and ynigli fruit. A pair of pale blazestone earrings sat on the dresser. As she picked them up, Dooku’s voice said from the vanity’s recorder “I thought these would suit you. Please accept them with my complements.”
She set them in her ears and brushed her hair letting it flow free down her back. She was suddenly too tired to worry about an elaborate coiffure, as would befit the gown.
Without warning, her eyes met those of her reflection. The facade of normalcy and dignity crumbled under the pain and shame she saw there. She laid her head on the vanity and wept.
*****
“Master.” Aayla uncurled from where she sat on Dooku’s bed. “I woke up and you weren’t here.” She sauntered across the room, unconcernedly naked, her lekku curling against her back in a satiated way.
“I had business, little one.” Dooku ran a hand over the nearest of the lekku, pressing in the sensitive zones, and watching as his apprentice’s nipples peaked. Her pouty mouth was half-open and almost begged to be kissed.
“My handsome Master.” She rubbed against his tall frame.
He had no time for the physical pleasures she offered. There was a usurpation to plan. As she caressed him, he caught the tips of her lekku and held them tightly, pouring dark Force energy over her body.
Every nervous center, every erogenous zone cascaded into instant overload. Aayla writhed in the grip of the big hands that held her, erotic sensation coming from every nerve ending in her body from soles of her delicately arched feet to her eyelids. She writhed under the energy, and it continued. She gasped for air, orgasm wracking her from the slightest touch of air, the grip of her master’s hands. His Force-touch in her mind fed her erotic imagery, and she moaned, wanting nothing more than to fulfill the delicious fantasies he was showing her.
“You like that, don’t you, apprentice?” Dooku’s voice was as calm as if he were asking her taste in chairs for the main room. “What of this?”
To her amazement, the energy increased. But now, it wasn’t as pleasant. The orgasms were wrenched from her. Her breasts ached and the nipples stung. The caress between her legs, which had been so delightful, began to burn. She continued to writhe, attempting to escape the dark embrace, her body responding to the stimulation as Dooku led her mind into the more twisted realms of the Dark Side, where pleasure blended into pain, orgasm into death and back again, blurring the lines of reality and sensation.
Dooku bent and claimed the little Twi’lek’s gasping mouth, plundering it, biting at her tongue, and across her lips. She shuddered convulsively as he drew a single tendril of Force taut around her throat. Her hips bucked against him, and he kissed her until her air ran out and she lay limp in his arms, only the lekku still twitching.
He released the hold on her throat, and made sure she breathed on her own before laying her down on the bed. Aayla was a valuable apprentice, but her appetites could become a distraction. He would need to set up subroutines in her brain to focus them, but that could wait.
*****
Anakin prowled the corridors, ignoring the pseudo-pain feedback from his damaged arm. It had become a distraction, and he paused for a moment to use the Force and shut the receptors down where his flesh arm met the mechanical one. The castle, it had to be a castle, was labyrinthine. He’d ended in dead-ends and false doors several times.
In one of the cells, he found a length of cloth. After relieving himself, he wrapped it around his hips and knotted it. The makeshift kilt made him feel ridiculous, but it was preferable to the drafts of being bare.
He was, after closer examination, quite sure he hadn’t fucked Aayla. There was no trace of her on his skin: no odor, no dried scales, nothing. The relief overwhelmed him. It was Padme he loved, Padme he was pledged to. Aayla, dreams notwithstanding, was merely a colleague.
He set off again, in search of a way out.
*****
Bail Organa was not surprised when a member of the transport’s crew pressed a palmgun into his ribs and ushered him away from the viewport. He was led to a storage compartment where the senators Corr and Dowmeia had already been stowed, bound and gagged.
He seized his abductor by the wrist and turned his own palmgun on him before the startled man could register that the placid Alderaani was attacking. The man went down in a silent heap. Organa freed his compatriots, and warned them to silence. He shed his rich senatorial clothing for the man’s uniform, so as to draw less attention. Kicking both his clothes and the dead man into the storage compartment, he gestured for the others to follow him. Now it was a matter of hiding until the transport dropped out of hyperspace in an hour. Then he’d see if he still knew how to hotwire an escape pod.
They made their way to the aft bank of escape pods. On a cargo ship, these were fairly roomy, made for six people each. The men settled in, Organa wishing he had a slightly more substantial weapon. The palmgun had enough juice for one, maybe two, shots.
They watched the surging greyness of hyperspace out the viewport, and waited.
*****
Padme had retired from the cockpit, leaving Enola on watch. Dooku was obviously not an ascetic like the Jedi. His cabin was as luxurious as her own family estate on Naboo, despite the humble appearance of the freighter. She threw herself across the bed, wanting Anakin with her.
She missed her husband. She had learned that since their marriage, all she had to do was shut her eyes and think of him to know exactly where he was and what he was doing. She had seen him sleeping, fighting, meditating. But now, for the first time it was as if he was hidden from her. The only thing she could think was that he was dead.
Dooku had taken Ani’s arm on Geonosis. Had he taken her husband’s life on Ord Mantell? Hot tears began down her cheeks, and she buried her face in the pillow that smelled of lerv wood and resins. A manly smell, and that brought memories of Anakin.
They’d had so little time together. She wrapped her arms around herself, pretending they were his. Sleep came upon her quickly.
Wakefulness came less quickly. She was dreaming of her husband and loathe to awaken. He was with her, making love to her. His tongue glided over her softness, laving each separate petal of her with slow care. He scraped his teeth lightly, very very lightly over one of the tiny inner lips and she arched against him with a moan.
“Mmmm,” came the appreciative chuckle from somewhere between her thighs. The warm breath teased her even more.
Padme came awake to the realization she was not alone in the bed.
“Pretty Padme,” said Enola, the plosives bursting against the senator’s wet flesh in gusts of cool air. “So sensitive.” The fricatives hissed across her like snakes, only to be followed by Enola’s tongue. This time, it dug under the hood of skin and rubbed along Padme’s clit.
Taking a solid hold on Padme’s hips, Enola buried her face in the rich wetness of the senator. Licking slowly from bottom to top, she learned all the curves and folds of the sweet vulva before her. A quick flick over the clit and she was gone, licking along the inner thighs, and nipping lightly.
Padme clutched her thighs together on the informant’s head, the tension rising in her body. When Enola moved to kiss her again, she gave a soft sob as the agile tongue penetrated her, dipping in and out with a finesse Anakin had never developed.
The tongue was gone again, before she could give any more thought to her husband. Enola had latched on to her and covered most of her aching wetness with a very talented mouth. This time, the tongue didn’t abandon her clit.
The time for teasing was over, Enola decided. She wondered how much it would take to get this stuck-up senator to climax under her mouth. One hand spider-walked its way up from Padme’s hip to tweak her hard nipple. The feel of breasts always made Enola crazy. She wanted to pinch and tug and pull until the nipple under her fingers went soft, until pretty Padme cried for mercy and begged for release in the filthiest words she knew.
She flicked her tongue hard across the hardened clit, back and forth, loving the feel of it, resisting the urge to nip at it.
Padme gasped under the assault on her senses. Her body cried “more,” while part of her mind told her she was wrong, and unfaithful. She tried to wriggle out of Enola’s grip, but the other woman had all the leverage, and warned her to stillness with a light nip that sent melting ripples up through her body. She squeezed her thighs tighter, wanting to keep the other woman there.
Enola could tell where Padme was, and with a final hard flick, she bit lightly at the pulsating clit in her mouth and pinched the nipple hard between her fingers. The senator screamed her pleasure, shock-waves leaving her jerking against the sheets.
Enola pulled away and looked at the sex-flush that covered Padme’s face and chest. So very pretty. She dipped back for another light flick of her tongue and watched as Padme arched and screamed again. She slipped three fingers into the very wet cunt, and stretched herself over top of Padme to kiss her.
Padme opened her eyes as the salty mouth descended on hers. She turned away, the taste repulsing her. The fingers inside of her hooked forward and she thrust back against them even as she tried to push Enola away.
“One more, pretty Padme. One more,” Enola encouraged her, shoving the fingers hard into her. “Feels nice, doesn’t it?”
Padme said nothing, just shut her eyes and imagined Anakin inside of her, loving her. At the image of her husband’s face, she tensed and moaned again.
Feeling the wetness around her fingers increase, Enola withdrew them, satisfied. She kissed the senator one last time, and got up. “That, my rescuer, is how I say thank you. Go back to sleep.” She licked one finger clean and winked at Padme before returning to the cockpit.
Padme turned her face back into the pillow but sleep wouldn’t come. She tossed and turned, thinking of Anakin. Part of her knew that marital fidelity was a way of ensuring paternity. This part, cold and rational, informed her she’d done nothing wrong. There was no chance of offspring, hence no need to feel guilty. The rest of her simply mourned. The orgasms had left her energized. She dressed and went forward to find Enola calmly at the controls.
“We’ll be reverting to normal space in about five minutes, Senator,” the informant said as if nothing had just happened.
*****
“Wake up, handsome, your two hours are up.”
Obi-Wan woke to seven and a half feet of flawless marble perfection standing beside the oversized bed. Naked, Mistress Lelania resembled nothing so much as a statue Obi-Wan remembered from his youth. Her hair cascaded down her back in fiery waves, and her long legs shone ivory in the dim light. Her enormous breasts were larger than his head, and her hips flared from a distinct waist.
He wasn’t sure if he should sit up, fall on his knees before her or plead exhaustion.
“It’s time to pay for your room, Jedi. It won’t be bad, I promise.”
She sat down on the side of the bed, and Obi-Wan joined her. He felt like a snub fighter coming on to a clone-trooper transport. There was just so much of her. A third shorter, and she would have been a delight, but he felt overwhelmed.
“Kiss me, little one. I haven’t been kissed in ages.”
Obi-Wan obliged, although the same held true for him as well. He wrapped himself around her and kissed her slowly. She parted her lips, but let him take the initiative in entering her. Her mouth tasted sweet and fresh. She stroked his tongue with hers, and encouraged him.
She was, after all, only a woman. He’d taken all the humanoid sexuality courses, even taught a series one semester. Padawans were encouraged to get their curiosity worked out, but not to get attached to others. He’d broken the rule, and when his lover had died, he had become celibate. It was easier that way.
The enormous breasts were heavy in his hands, and he palmed the nipples gingerly. Her hands were deft as she undid his trousers and stroked his cock to hardness.
“A little more interest, please, master Jedi. You don’t leave until I say the room is paid for.”
He kissed her again, this time remembering what it had been like the first time he’d been kissed. Lelania was far more skilled than his lover had been, and he found himself becoming aroused. Her hand with the long fingers had begun stroking his back, urging him closer.
He broke the kiss and stood up. Shedding his Jedi clothing quickly, Obi-Wan stood naked before her, aroused and proudly erect.
“So very handsome.” Lelania lay back on the bed. “Come make your payment, little one.”
Obi-Wan knelt between her legs, and stared at the cavernous opening that awaited him. He wasn’t badly endowed, but he wondered if she’d feel anything. Her clit was the size of the first knuckle of his index finger, and he kissed it carefully. She moaned softly, and he was encouraged to suck on it, swirling his tongue around it. She gasped and buried a hand in his hair.
“Inside me, little Jedi. I want you inside.” The hand on the back of his head was insistently urging him away.
Giving up the fight, Obi-wan slid in. She was large, but wet. He could feel a sudden contraction, adjusting to meet his size. Something as plush as the velvet folds he was buried in wrapped itself around his cock and he gasped.
“That’s where all *my* nerve endings are. Come on and fuck me. I need the motion.”
There was nothing to be said. Obi-Wan stolidly pounded away at her, dispersing his own arousal into the Force in order to maintain the erection. The tongue-like pseudopod that had wrapped around him caressed him and tugged this way and that at his shaft. It was definitely the weirdest sex he’d had.
“Very nice,” Lelania gasped. “More!” Her big hands on Obi-Wan’s hips clutched him tighter.
The pseudopod clutched him tightly, flicking over the head of his cock like a restless tongue, coaxing him to greater efforts. Lelania had enjoyed four orgasms and was working on the fifth.
“So good.” She wrapped her legs around him, crushing him into her hips. The pseudopod was in a frenzy now, squeezing, twining around him, and stimulating all of his cock at once. “Come for me!” she demanded suddenly. The order was irresistible.
Obi-Wan buried himself in the giantess, shouting as his first waking orgasm in ten years wracked his senses. All the arousal he had sent into the Force slammed back into him, enhanced and melded with Lelania’s arousal, and the sensations from the pleasurers in the other rooms. For a brief instant Obi-Wan was pure orgasm, the distilled essence of the life-giving side of the Force. He collapsed, breathing hard.
He came slowly down from the pinnacle, his head pillowed on Lelania’s ample bosom. He looked up and kissed her. Her eyes were the color of warm honey.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“Thank you, my Jedi,” she returned, looking sated.
They lay tumbled together for a time, just feeling skin against skin, letting the exhaustion work its way through their bodies.
He got up and dressed. Lelania rolled to watch him. “If you ever need a place to go on Ord Mantell, my door is open,” she said.
“My thanks, Mistress Lelania. For everything.” Obi-Wan left, closing the door softly behind him.
Lelania got up and went to the ‘fresher to clean up before returning to her bookkeeping.
*****
Lexi Dio sat calmly as the hovercar took her to the landing platform. Dooku, opposite her, had said nothing since programming the destination. No he looked at her and broke the tense silence.
“My dear senator, I must apologize for the haste with which our visit ends. Many things demand my attention.”
“The Secession, no doubt,” she spat. “I don’t understand you. Why rescue me, but destroy the Republic?’
“I am not destroying it, Senator Dio. I am merely removing the malcontents and disruptive elements from it. The Republic will emerge all the stronger for letting them go. Perhaps, you should talk to the people you were elected to serve, instead of listening to the charming Senator Organa.”
There was no answer for this. The hovercar stopped at a landing platform and Dooku handed her out.
“My dear, that ship will take you to Coruscant or Uyter, whichever you prefer.” He bowed over her hand and raised his eyes to meet hers. “You are now deeply in my debt, Senator.” His breath was warm against the fine hairs her wrist, but set up shivers that ran to the pit of her belly. “I keep very strict ledgers, and you will be called to account someday soon.” He stood up. “For now, go safely. And listen to your people, not the Senate.”
He watched as she boarded the small staryacht and lifted off, leaving Ord Mantell behind. Her humiliation would not be left so easily, he knew, and the confiscated holo of her would be his insurance that she paid her debt.
Now to dispose of that annoying padawan. The sleep suggestion should be wearing off soon. His day off to a good start, Dooku programmed the hovercar to return by a different route.
Takes too long to explain, so here's the link to the rest.
Obi-Wan is stuck in a brothel. Anakin is seperated from Aayla Secura, his partner. she's been seduced into darkness by Dooku. Padme has resuced an informat. Senators are in danger everywhere.
Obi-Wan tried to maintain his composure as the gaudy parade of pleasure partners in every species and gender rioted past him. Several had already made it known they were interested in more than the lightsaber at his belt. Just what did an estrus-9 receptive-nonfertile Clythoriam think it could do with a human anyway? He made his way to the office to negotiate with the owner.
She was seated behind a desk: a massive woman, apparently human, with red hair piled atop her head in a severe bun. “Talk to the bully-boys if you need a pleasurer,” she said, never looking up from her accounting pad.
“Actually, Mistress, it’s you I need to speak to. I need a room, but no partner.”
She looked up and saw the Jedi in her doorway, holding out a pouch of coins. She stood up, and up and up. Obi-Wan Kenobi was about the normal height for a human male, but found himself staring her straight in the impressive bosom.
“I haven’t seen a Jedi on Ord Mantell for a dozen years, boy. What brings you to Lelania’s? Other than a place to rest?” She resisted the urge to run a hand down the golden beard.
“My business is my own. I want a room for two hours and no disturbances.”
Lelania took the pouch and counted the coins. “Dear man, you haven’t enough here for an hour, let alone two.” She handed it back to him and looked him over again. “I don’t want trouble with the Jedi, but business is business, and I got problems of my own.” She went to sit back down, and reached for the pad again. As she studied the figures, she shook her head. “There’s no way. I can’t have a room out of commission for two hours at the price you’re offering.” She ran some numbers quickly. “However...”
Obi-Wan knew he didn’t like the look in her eye. “I’ll find another place.” He edged toward the door.
“No need. You can have my bedroom. It’s not in use, and I’ll fetch you after the two hours. But I expect payment at that time.” She stood up and parted the gold and rust curtains behind her. A huge bed, rumpled as if the satin sheets hadn’t been smoothed for days, loomed behind it.
“My thanks, Mistress Lelania.”
“Two hours, Jedi,” she said, this time succumbing to the temptation to lay one of her enormous hands along the side of his face. Her palm was soft, dry and smelled pleasantly spicy. Obi-Wan let her touch him, then went to the bed and drew the curtains. The sheets were clean and the mattress was comfortable with a slight dip in the center.
Kneeling quietly, he found his own center and began to meditate on the Force.
*****
Lexi Dio clutched the pilfered curtain her rescuer had wrapped her in and looked up at him as he set her gently on her feet. The rescue had been a whirlwind of flashing lightsaber, falling bodies and breakneck speed as Count Dooku had swept her away from the scene of her humiliation.
“Senator Dio,” he said gravely, bowing over her hand. “There are garments more befitting one of your dignity in the closet. It would give me great pleasure if you would join me for dinner.”
Lexi, treated like a senator once again, favored him with a gracious smile that held no warmth. “I am very grateful to you, Count Dooku, for your assistance in this time of trial. I will be pleased to join you for dinner.” She knew exactly how charming this man could be when he wanted to, and had resolved not to fall for any of his traps.
“Until then.” He sketched a small bow and left.
The Uyterian woman found the ‘fresher attached to the room, and after a long, very hot water shower, and a thorough sonic shower as well, emerged feeling cleaner than she had for days. In the closet, she found simple, elegant gowns well suited to her. She chose a rose one of Tykarran snailsilk, trimmed in pale Corellian bobbin-lace at the neck and sleeves.
On the vanity was a scent dispenser, and she programmed her favorite: bluevine flower with undertones of lerv wood and ynigli fruit. A pair of pale blazestone earrings sat on the dresser. As she picked them up, Dooku’s voice said from the vanity’s recorder “I thought these would suit you. Please accept them with my complements.”
She set them in her ears and brushed her hair letting it flow free down her back. She was suddenly too tired to worry about an elaborate coiffure, as would befit the gown.
Without warning, her eyes met those of her reflection. The facade of normalcy and dignity crumbled under the pain and shame she saw there. She laid her head on the vanity and wept.
*****
“Master.” Aayla uncurled from where she sat on Dooku’s bed. “I woke up and you weren’t here.” She sauntered across the room, unconcernedly naked, her lekku curling against her back in a satiated way.
“I had business, little one.” Dooku ran a hand over the nearest of the lekku, pressing in the sensitive zones, and watching as his apprentice’s nipples peaked. Her pouty mouth was half-open and almost begged to be kissed.
“My handsome Master.” She rubbed against his tall frame.
He had no time for the physical pleasures she offered. There was a usurpation to plan. As she caressed him, he caught the tips of her lekku and held them tightly, pouring dark Force energy over her body.
Every nervous center, every erogenous zone cascaded into instant overload. Aayla writhed in the grip of the big hands that held her, erotic sensation coming from every nerve ending in her body from soles of her delicately arched feet to her eyelids. She writhed under the energy, and it continued. She gasped for air, orgasm wracking her from the slightest touch of air, the grip of her master’s hands. His Force-touch in her mind fed her erotic imagery, and she moaned, wanting nothing more than to fulfill the delicious fantasies he was showing her.
“You like that, don’t you, apprentice?” Dooku’s voice was as calm as if he were asking her taste in chairs for the main room. “What of this?”
To her amazement, the energy increased. But now, it wasn’t as pleasant. The orgasms were wrenched from her. Her breasts ached and the nipples stung. The caress between her legs, which had been so delightful, began to burn. She continued to writhe, attempting to escape the dark embrace, her body responding to the stimulation as Dooku led her mind into the more twisted realms of the Dark Side, where pleasure blended into pain, orgasm into death and back again, blurring the lines of reality and sensation.
Dooku bent and claimed the little Twi’lek’s gasping mouth, plundering it, biting at her tongue, and across her lips. She shuddered convulsively as he drew a single tendril of Force taut around her throat. Her hips bucked against him, and he kissed her until her air ran out and she lay limp in his arms, only the lekku still twitching.
He released the hold on her throat, and made sure she breathed on her own before laying her down on the bed. Aayla was a valuable apprentice, but her appetites could become a distraction. He would need to set up subroutines in her brain to focus them, but that could wait.
*****
Anakin prowled the corridors, ignoring the pseudo-pain feedback from his damaged arm. It had become a distraction, and he paused for a moment to use the Force and shut the receptors down where his flesh arm met the mechanical one. The castle, it had to be a castle, was labyrinthine. He’d ended in dead-ends and false doors several times.
In one of the cells, he found a length of cloth. After relieving himself, he wrapped it around his hips and knotted it. The makeshift kilt made him feel ridiculous, but it was preferable to the drafts of being bare.
He was, after closer examination, quite sure he hadn’t fucked Aayla. There was no trace of her on his skin: no odor, no dried scales, nothing. The relief overwhelmed him. It was Padme he loved, Padme he was pledged to. Aayla, dreams notwithstanding, was merely a colleague.
He set off again, in search of a way out.
*****
Bail Organa was not surprised when a member of the transport’s crew pressed a palmgun into his ribs and ushered him away from the viewport. He was led to a storage compartment where the senators Corr and Dowmeia had already been stowed, bound and gagged.
He seized his abductor by the wrist and turned his own palmgun on him before the startled man could register that the placid Alderaani was attacking. The man went down in a silent heap. Organa freed his compatriots, and warned them to silence. He shed his rich senatorial clothing for the man’s uniform, so as to draw less attention. Kicking both his clothes and the dead man into the storage compartment, he gestured for the others to follow him. Now it was a matter of hiding until the transport dropped out of hyperspace in an hour. Then he’d see if he still knew how to hotwire an escape pod.
They made their way to the aft bank of escape pods. On a cargo ship, these were fairly roomy, made for six people each. The men settled in, Organa wishing he had a slightly more substantial weapon. The palmgun had enough juice for one, maybe two, shots.
They watched the surging greyness of hyperspace out the viewport, and waited.
*****
Padme had retired from the cockpit, leaving Enola on watch. Dooku was obviously not an ascetic like the Jedi. His cabin was as luxurious as her own family estate on Naboo, despite the humble appearance of the freighter. She threw herself across the bed, wanting Anakin with her.
She missed her husband. She had learned that since their marriage, all she had to do was shut her eyes and think of him to know exactly where he was and what he was doing. She had seen him sleeping, fighting, meditating. But now, for the first time it was as if he was hidden from her. The only thing she could think was that he was dead.
Dooku had taken Ani’s arm on Geonosis. Had he taken her husband’s life on Ord Mantell? Hot tears began down her cheeks, and she buried her face in the pillow that smelled of lerv wood and resins. A manly smell, and that brought memories of Anakin.
They’d had so little time together. She wrapped her arms around herself, pretending they were his. Sleep came upon her quickly.
Wakefulness came less quickly. She was dreaming of her husband and loathe to awaken. He was with her, making love to her. His tongue glided over her softness, laving each separate petal of her with slow care. He scraped his teeth lightly, very very lightly over one of the tiny inner lips and she arched against him with a moan.
“Mmmm,” came the appreciative chuckle from somewhere between her thighs. The warm breath teased her even more.
Padme came awake to the realization she was not alone in the bed.
“Pretty Padme,” said Enola, the plosives bursting against the senator’s wet flesh in gusts of cool air. “So sensitive.” The fricatives hissed across her like snakes, only to be followed by Enola’s tongue. This time, it dug under the hood of skin and rubbed along Padme’s clit.
Taking a solid hold on Padme’s hips, Enola buried her face in the rich wetness of the senator. Licking slowly from bottom to top, she learned all the curves and folds of the sweet vulva before her. A quick flick over the clit and she was gone, licking along the inner thighs, and nipping lightly.
Padme clutched her thighs together on the informant’s head, the tension rising in her body. When Enola moved to kiss her again, she gave a soft sob as the agile tongue penetrated her, dipping in and out with a finesse Anakin had never developed.
The tongue was gone again, before she could give any more thought to her husband. Enola had latched on to her and covered most of her aching wetness with a very talented mouth. This time, the tongue didn’t abandon her clit.
The time for teasing was over, Enola decided. She wondered how much it would take to get this stuck-up senator to climax under her mouth. One hand spider-walked its way up from Padme’s hip to tweak her hard nipple. The feel of breasts always made Enola crazy. She wanted to pinch and tug and pull until the nipple under her fingers went soft, until pretty Padme cried for mercy and begged for release in the filthiest words she knew.
She flicked her tongue hard across the hardened clit, back and forth, loving the feel of it, resisting the urge to nip at it.
Padme gasped under the assault on her senses. Her body cried “more,” while part of her mind told her she was wrong, and unfaithful. She tried to wriggle out of Enola’s grip, but the other woman had all the leverage, and warned her to stillness with a light nip that sent melting ripples up through her body. She squeezed her thighs tighter, wanting to keep the other woman there.
Enola could tell where Padme was, and with a final hard flick, she bit lightly at the pulsating clit in her mouth and pinched the nipple hard between her fingers. The senator screamed her pleasure, shock-waves leaving her jerking against the sheets.
Enola pulled away and looked at the sex-flush that covered Padme’s face and chest. So very pretty. She dipped back for another light flick of her tongue and watched as Padme arched and screamed again. She slipped three fingers into the very wet cunt, and stretched herself over top of Padme to kiss her.
Padme opened her eyes as the salty mouth descended on hers. She turned away, the taste repulsing her. The fingers inside of her hooked forward and she thrust back against them even as she tried to push Enola away.
“One more, pretty Padme. One more,” Enola encouraged her, shoving the fingers hard into her. “Feels nice, doesn’t it?”
Padme said nothing, just shut her eyes and imagined Anakin inside of her, loving her. At the image of her husband’s face, she tensed and moaned again.
Feeling the wetness around her fingers increase, Enola withdrew them, satisfied. She kissed the senator one last time, and got up. “That, my rescuer, is how I say thank you. Go back to sleep.” She licked one finger clean and winked at Padme before returning to the cockpit.
Padme turned her face back into the pillow but sleep wouldn’t come. She tossed and turned, thinking of Anakin. Part of her knew that marital fidelity was a way of ensuring paternity. This part, cold and rational, informed her she’d done nothing wrong. There was no chance of offspring, hence no need to feel guilty. The rest of her simply mourned. The orgasms had left her energized. She dressed and went forward to find Enola calmly at the controls.
“We’ll be reverting to normal space in about five minutes, Senator,” the informant said as if nothing had just happened.
*****
“Wake up, handsome, your two hours are up.”
Obi-Wan woke to seven and a half feet of flawless marble perfection standing beside the oversized bed. Naked, Mistress Lelania resembled nothing so much as a statue Obi-Wan remembered from his youth. Her hair cascaded down her back in fiery waves, and her long legs shone ivory in the dim light. Her enormous breasts were larger than his head, and her hips flared from a distinct waist.
He wasn’t sure if he should sit up, fall on his knees before her or plead exhaustion.
“It’s time to pay for your room, Jedi. It won’t be bad, I promise.”
She sat down on the side of the bed, and Obi-Wan joined her. He felt like a snub fighter coming on to a clone-trooper transport. There was just so much of her. A third shorter, and she would have been a delight, but he felt overwhelmed.
“Kiss me, little one. I haven’t been kissed in ages.”
Obi-Wan obliged, although the same held true for him as well. He wrapped himself around her and kissed her slowly. She parted her lips, but let him take the initiative in entering her. Her mouth tasted sweet and fresh. She stroked his tongue with hers, and encouraged him.
She was, after all, only a woman. He’d taken all the humanoid sexuality courses, even taught a series one semester. Padawans were encouraged to get their curiosity worked out, but not to get attached to others. He’d broken the rule, and when his lover had died, he had become celibate. It was easier that way.
The enormous breasts were heavy in his hands, and he palmed the nipples gingerly. Her hands were deft as she undid his trousers and stroked his cock to hardness.
“A little more interest, please, master Jedi. You don’t leave until I say the room is paid for.”
He kissed her again, this time remembering what it had been like the first time he’d been kissed. Lelania was far more skilled than his lover had been, and he found himself becoming aroused. Her hand with the long fingers had begun stroking his back, urging him closer.
He broke the kiss and stood up. Shedding his Jedi clothing quickly, Obi-Wan stood naked before her, aroused and proudly erect.
“So very handsome.” Lelania lay back on the bed. “Come make your payment, little one.”
Obi-Wan knelt between her legs, and stared at the cavernous opening that awaited him. He wasn’t badly endowed, but he wondered if she’d feel anything. Her clit was the size of the first knuckle of his index finger, and he kissed it carefully. She moaned softly, and he was encouraged to suck on it, swirling his tongue around it. She gasped and buried a hand in his hair.
“Inside me, little Jedi. I want you inside.” The hand on the back of his head was insistently urging him away.
Giving up the fight, Obi-wan slid in. She was large, but wet. He could feel a sudden contraction, adjusting to meet his size. Something as plush as the velvet folds he was buried in wrapped itself around his cock and he gasped.
“That’s where all *my* nerve endings are. Come on and fuck me. I need the motion.”
There was nothing to be said. Obi-Wan stolidly pounded away at her, dispersing his own arousal into the Force in order to maintain the erection. The tongue-like pseudopod that had wrapped around him caressed him and tugged this way and that at his shaft. It was definitely the weirdest sex he’d had.
“Very nice,” Lelania gasped. “More!” Her big hands on Obi-Wan’s hips clutched him tighter.
The pseudopod clutched him tightly, flicking over the head of his cock like a restless tongue, coaxing him to greater efforts. Lelania had enjoyed four orgasms and was working on the fifth.
“So good.” She wrapped her legs around him, crushing him into her hips. The pseudopod was in a frenzy now, squeezing, twining around him, and stimulating all of his cock at once. “Come for me!” she demanded suddenly. The order was irresistible.
Obi-Wan buried himself in the giantess, shouting as his first waking orgasm in ten years wracked his senses. All the arousal he had sent into the Force slammed back into him, enhanced and melded with Lelania’s arousal, and the sensations from the pleasurers in the other rooms. For a brief instant Obi-Wan was pure orgasm, the distilled essence of the life-giving side of the Force. He collapsed, breathing hard.
He came slowly down from the pinnacle, his head pillowed on Lelania’s ample bosom. He looked up and kissed her. Her eyes were the color of warm honey.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“Thank you, my Jedi,” she returned, looking sated.
They lay tumbled together for a time, just feeling skin against skin, letting the exhaustion work its way through their bodies.
He got up and dressed. Lelania rolled to watch him. “If you ever need a place to go on Ord Mantell, my door is open,” she said.
“My thanks, Mistress Lelania. For everything.” Obi-Wan left, closing the door softly behind him.
Lelania got up and went to the ‘fresher to clean up before returning to her bookkeeping.
*****
Lexi Dio sat calmly as the hovercar took her to the landing platform. Dooku, opposite her, had said nothing since programming the destination. No he looked at her and broke the tense silence.
“My dear senator, I must apologize for the haste with which our visit ends. Many things demand my attention.”
“The Secession, no doubt,” she spat. “I don’t understand you. Why rescue me, but destroy the Republic?’
“I am not destroying it, Senator Dio. I am merely removing the malcontents and disruptive elements from it. The Republic will emerge all the stronger for letting them go. Perhaps, you should talk to the people you were elected to serve, instead of listening to the charming Senator Organa.”
There was no answer for this. The hovercar stopped at a landing platform and Dooku handed her out.
“My dear, that ship will take you to Coruscant or Uyter, whichever you prefer.” He bowed over her hand and raised his eyes to meet hers. “You are now deeply in my debt, Senator.” His breath was warm against the fine hairs her wrist, but set up shivers that ran to the pit of her belly. “I keep very strict ledgers, and you will be called to account someday soon.” He stood up. “For now, go safely. And listen to your people, not the Senate.”
He watched as she boarded the small staryacht and lifted off, leaving Ord Mantell behind. Her humiliation would not be left so easily, he knew, and the confiscated holo of her would be his insurance that she paid her debt.
Now to dispose of that annoying padawan. The sleep suggestion should be wearing off soon. His day off to a good start, Dooku programmed the hovercar to return by a different route.
