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Asajj Ventress’ Sub-Dom Adventures.	By : Nickamano Category: +S through Z > Star Wars: The Clone Wars Views: 5361 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars / The Clone Wars, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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“As you know, I was born on Dathomir. What you don’t know was that as a new born I was sold into slavery, some kind of bargain that went wrong between my sisters and a Siniteen warlord called Hal’Sted. And so, the first six years of my adolescence was spent on the planet Rattatak in the Outer rim, as a slave to Hal’Sted until the moment he was murdered. And then my life got even worse… The details of which I won’t share with you… I was found after a couple of seasons living rough by a Jedi Knight who had crashed on the planet and, since then, rather than returning to Coruscant he had been using his skills and training to try to bring order to the lawlessness of the capital city. He saw that the Force was strong in me, even though I knew nothing of it. And he took me in and trained me. I loved that old human. He was the first man ever to show me kindness.”
“What was his name?”
“Ky Narec.”
“I haven’t heard of him.”
“You wouldn’t have.” Asajj spat. “He was essentially abandoned by your Order.”
“No way! The Jedi Order doesn’t abandon their own, they’d never…”
But then Ahsoka, realising her own current predicament stuttered into silence, feeling herself blushing uncomfortably in the gloom.
“Thinking back, they never came looking for him, but for some reason he never tried to contact the temple either, or purchase a seat on a transport to get off-world. The planet was lawless, run by warlords and spice runners and slavers, but it wasn’t as though it was under quarantine. There were still transports coming and going daily and still interstellar communications. Anyway, for whatever reason he didn’t leave and the Jedi never came to the planet looking for him. It appeared to me that he had simply been abandoned, or forgotten about. And I carried that bitterness with me for a long time. It was the basis for my hatred toward your kind, until Count Dooku found me and twisted my perspectives even more.”
“I see… Maybe they just assumed he’d died?”
“But to not even check? To not find out for certain? This was still when the Jedi were in their heyday, spread out all over the galaxy, keeping the peace. They couldn’t spare one of their venerable Knights, to investigate?”
Ahsoka held her silence, giving Ventress the opportunity to continue, to fill the quiet with words, as people tended to want to do. But Ventress was trained too and she had no problem with silences. Or at least less of a problem than Ahsoka herself, who was interested in the older woman’s background.
“So, how long were you with him?”
“Ten rotations. He was killed on the day I chose to celebrate my birth. I never knew the actual date of my birth. Ky suggested I pick one and we celebrated without fail. We’d plant a tree or a shrub, a way to avoid attachment to a material gift, of course…”
“The Jedi Way.” Ahsoka observed with a lopsided smile.
“He was a great teacher. The kindest man I have ever known. He said I had a natural aptitude and I often learned my lessons quickly. He told me I was going to make a great Knight of the Order. Ironically, looking back, he always worked hardest on making sure I avoided the pull of the Darkside. With my upbring being full of fear and pain, every single day before I met him had been fear and pain. The life of a slave. And I was seeped in anger. He admitted that early on he was often uncertain that I would be able to avoid the Darkside. He even admitted to having nightmares about having to kill me because I had turned. But he persevered and I always showed enough promise and he was able to instil in me methods of controlling my emotions when engaging with the Force. I think that’s the reason I’m managing to pull myself away from it now. Most who fall to the Darkside are incapable of freeing themselves and turn completely. Nine times out of ten, there is no redemption. Really, being dealt the Idiot’s Array has better odds.”
“How did he die?” Ahsoka asked, again filling in a silence, this time a mournful one.
“Ambushed and murdered. Shot in the back.” Ventress spat venomously, obviously still enraged by the memory.
“I murdered three score Weequay because of my master’s cowardly murder. I suppose that would have been my real first step into the Darkside.”
The Zabrak sighed sadly and looked away, lost in the past. Ahsoka held her silence, her young eyes were big, staring, almost with incredulity. Finally, Asajj continued.
“I felt the need to honour the teachings of my master, but without his influence and guidance; and alone, without his wisdom and protection it was all so much harder. I had utterly lost all control of my life. And I was so very angry. Those ten rotations with Ky were the happiest I had experienced and that had been savagely taken from me. I knew vengeance wasn’t the Jedi way but it was a thirst, keeping me awake day and night. I decided, instead of denying that need, I would try and put it to good use.”
She gave a half-smile at Ahsoka’s sudden frown.
“Lying to myself, obviously.” She said with a shrug. “I singlehandedly started to take on the criminal underworld of my adopted planet. Within a single rotation, I had taken over complete control of the capital city, killed hundreds. Most of them deserved it.”
“Most of them?”
“It isn’t so easy determining who has the right to live and die. You have it easy in this war, your enemies are all droids. You don’t bat an eyelid. But what if they were Twi’lek? Or Sullustan? Or even Togruta, like yourself? I doubt you would find it quite so easy.”
“But you did? On Rattatak?”
“That was my point.” Ventress nodded slowly.
The Zabrak gave a wistful smile, an ironic expression flitting across her face. She cast a sidelong glance at Ahsoka, grinned knowingly.
“You’re wondering what all this has to do with sex…? That was all before I became so single minded.”
“Driven?”
“Vengeful.” She sighed. “Before that I was lost. I didn’t want to live. I didn’t know how to carry on, or do anything. I lost myself. I think perhaps I wanted to die. I partially blamed myself for not being aware enough to see the trap, not fast enough to intercept that sniper’s bolt that took Ky’s life. And that I killed the sniper too quickly.”
“It turned self-destructive for a while. It only lasted a season. But there were enough experiences during those cycles that taught me many lessons. Unfortunate, painful and disturbing lessons. My journey of sexual discovery began with that initial Weequay massacre. My first foray into vengeance.”
<><><>
“No Quarter!”
Asajj drew the blaster pistol from the Weequay corpse’s holster. She hefted its well-balanced weight then checked the powercell. Its digital readout was displayed as a percentage. This was a BlasTech SE14. They tended to have a standard capacity of fifty plasma bolts which, after a quick mathematical assessment would leave the pistol with nineteen shots. Her master had suggested more than once that blasters were not to be trusted and that proper skill with a lightsaber always made them redundant. At the time she had understood and agreed. Afterall any and all combat would be defensive. Blocking, deflecting and returning blaster bolts would more than suffice for protecting themselves from attackers with blasters.
But that wasn’t this situation. This was about making them understand what the consequences were for the cowardly murder of her master. The only man she had ever loved. They would regret shooting him in the back. And then they would die. Every last one of them. And if that took using a blaster as well as a lightsaber, then so be it.
She kept herself in the doorway in cover, at the corner of the small brick building and considered her next move. It was so hot, she used Ky’s training to focus her mind, sliding her attention beyond the convection currents emanating up from the ground and bathing her in its torrid wall of heat. She was as used to it as anyone but it still affected the residents of Rattatak young and old, it was simple science. The mantle this close to the surface expressing its heat from underground. It was great for energy use, all the power one could ever need right beneath your feet. And no chance of dangerous solar radiation, or tanning for that matter, not that it would affect Asajj’s natural Zabrak colouring.
She ignored the rivulets of sweat trickling down her flesh. The skimpiness of her robes was necessary for the climate, everyone dressed down. Other than Ky. He had retained his full Jedi robes, instead using meditation to regulate his body temperature while drinking a lot of water. Though as her body had developed out of adolescence toward adulthood, and her own skimpier robes had grown tighter and incidentally more revealing, she had started to feel increasing pangs of embarrassment. Though again, it was the same for everyone. Plus, as a Padawan she was above and beyond love and sexuality, allure and the temptations of lust and desire. They all led to attachment, and attachment led to the fear of losing those attachments. And that led to anger or grief. Which was only a stumbling step into the abyss of the Darkside of the Force.
She knew there were at least three more snipers at the opposite side of the square waiting for her to come out. In fact, given their positioning and that they knew exactly where she was, she might well be pinned down.
She had used the Force to drag the body over to retrieve his blaster. But now she wasn’t sure what her best move would be. The snipers were between her and the gates of the stronghold. Sometimes ‘too many options’ was as tricky if not trickier than having too few.
It occurred to her that the blaster’s holster might be helpful too, freeing up her left hand if she wasn’t firing. So, she took an extra minute to uncouple it and drag it out from under the body. It was a horizontal small-of-the-back holster on a simple hide belt with two additional power cells in one pouch and a seemingly unused cleaning kit in another. Asajj slipped the belt around her slender waist but knew immediately that it was far too large, it would not even hang from her narrow hips, as soon as she stood up it would end up around her ankles. Biting back her frustration, she instead slung it across her shoulder, over the crossed flaps of her Padawan’s robe.
Padawan. How could she think of herself as a Padawan now? With no master to teach her and no way to achieve Knighthood… Unless… Could she simply take a transport from the port and travel to Coruscant? Present herself to the council or something? Why the hell should she though? Hadn’t they abandoned her master here, forgotten about him? Dismissed him? He had always insisted otherwise, of course, but Asajj had often found herself wondering why no Jedi had appeared in search of Ky? If they cared so deeply and were as compassionate as they were meant to be, why didn’t they come here and bring him home? Either way that was a decision for the future. For now she had to get to the stronghold and kill those Weequay Gundarks.
The sniper took a moment to look over the young woman through his scope. Human though milk-white pale and … actually no, not human, near human… Of course, Rattatak was always hot, in the capital especially. And though she wore a Jedi robe of the traditional style and in its natural earthen colours, the fabric was of free-weave silk and the fit was loose and flowing. Simple pleated fabric straps crossed over her shoulders from the small of her back, gathering at her collar and then spreading and smoothing to cup her high breasts, before sliding down to her waist in a gentle scoop and terminating in a sash belt that resembled a loin cloth. Her leggings were like loose silk chaps, with slits up the inside and outside legs, and they only came together at the ankles of her soft hide boots with the ubiquitous thick protective soles.
It was really rather revealing, there didn’t seem to be any undergarments and surely it could not have been acceptable to the Jedi’s church. Perhaps she was a wannabe. Some girl with delusions of grandeur. Maybe she was slightly Force sensitive but had been rejected by the church but had been infected by their dogma anyway and took it upon herself to follow the teachings. Maybe Ky Nerac had seen an opportunity for a young lover and had promised to teach her the ways of the Jedi so that he could get her on her back with her legs spread. The Jedi were often seen around the galaxy in pairs, mostly an older one and a younger one. Maybe they were all fucking their apprentices, maybe it was a perk of the job?
“Enough ogling the target.” He told himself, held his breath and depressed the sniper rifle’s trigger.
Asajj smiled to herself, reading the sniper’s intention and ducking back into cover as he was squeezing the trigger. She calmly watched the high-powered plasma bolt zipping safely past the corner of her building.
She felt strange, the rage was hot and screaming for attention, the need to get even, to pay back these sick murderers of having taken Ky from her. But it was, at least at the moment, behind a wall. It filled two thirds of her mind but the positivity was holding it back. That positivity was strange too however, she felt the excitement of getting justice for Ky. She felt the joys of using her training in a real conflict situation and seeing the lessons working exactly as her master had explained to her. She felt the joy of the fight and wondered if it related to her Dathomiri heritage. Other than being told she had come from the backwater world that she had read about in galactic encyclopaedias and the little her old slave master and Ky had told her of her people, she knew next to nothing about the Nightsisters and their Force magic. But she did understand that they were female warriors who were Force sensitives and were respected and feared so much that people did not tend to travel to their world.
She settled herself, bringing her thoughts back to her master’s teachings. Thinking of Ky drew her attention to the lightsaber on her belt. She unhooked it and looked it over. She had reached that point in her experience when it felt equal parts her own and Ky’s. It had been his and she had used it daily for training and sometimes carried around with her. More than once she had asked around to see if any of the black-marketeers and weapons dealers ever came into possession of lightsabers. But obtaining a Jedi blade of her own had never come to pass, though whether Ky’s contacts had been afraid of the request actually being a form of entrapment, and had simply lied, Asajj was never certain.
She looked over the chromium and ebony hilt for the millionth time but in that moment, it was like seeing in anew. Inexplicable yet heart-warming, giving her feelings of excitement and nostalgia.
It was long enough overall to accept both her small hands twice over. The blocky activation matrix jutted from the grip’s angular pommel, through there was a secondary activator stud at the business end. The mirror-polished emitter was concave and didn’t possess a shroud. There was a dual modulating/tuning ring right below the emitter, which she had been told not to play around with. And there were also length and power knobs equidistant from the activator stud, as well as a recharge socket just above the pommel. The rest of the hilt was an ergonomic stack of rubberised ebony handgrips and chromium shaft.
She slid her hands around the grip, feeling the rubber mould itself to the callused flesh of her palms and fingers. And then, enjoying the familiarity of the activator stud, and the tingles of excitement dancing around her heart, she knew that she was ready.
“Enough hanging around.” She told herself.
She stepped out from the doorway and rounded the corner to face the semi-circular brick courtyard beyond. There was a two-metre wall at the rear of the courtyard with alloy railings atop it then a flight of wide, deep steps that led up to the entrance of the stronghold. She drew the blade. The sound, that delightful, powerful, electric snap-hiss accompanying the metre long length of the green shaft of fountaining plasma.
There came the electric scream of a blaster bolt but the bolt had already been deflected by a sweep of her emerald blade. The effect was strange, as if the sound of the bolt had been left behind, raving to catch up with the deadly lozenge of plasma even as it veered away in a safe new direction.
Another plasma bolt shot across the square toward the Zabrak. Though this one whipped by a metre behind her.
Asajj launched herself forward with a sudden eruption of explosive motion; no doubt a blur to the snipers. Using the force to accelerate her reactions which created the illusion of slowed time, she drew the SE14 and popped a shot off across the courtyard. It struck the cylindrical powerpack just in front of its trigger guard and turned the sniper rifle into a bomb.
By the time the sniper was spread out across the far side of the wall and the smoke was beginning to thin, Asajj was somersaulting over the wall, whipping the plasma blade in a rapid wheeling spin and cutting another sniper and his rifle through twice over.
The third Weequay had dumped his rifle and drawn a DH-17, and was filling the space between them with plasma bolts. Asajj didn’t have time to focus her accuracy enough to deflect the bolts straight back the way they had come, but she was able to stop any from striking her body. Allowing the Force to control her arms and hands and through them the blade of her lightsaber. Seeing a break in the blaster fire just before it came, she braced her legs and feet, lowering her centre of gravity and then launching herself into the air. Once the Force was no longer necessary for deflections, she directed it around her legs, allowing the power to launch her up and over three or four times the distance and velocity.
She landed toe to toe with the sniper with her saber-blade between them pointed to the ground. She instantly flicked the blade to the sky, even as her eyes locked onto the criminal’s. The metre long blade bisected the Weequay with hardly any noticeable resistance. Looking down at the body, she had actually taken one leg through the knee, up the thigh, groin and torso and out of the top of his shoulder. It had also divided his rifle into three separate parts.
Taking a second to think about her blind luck, despite what Ky had repeatedly said about luck being nothing more than a gambler’s myth, she saw how close she had come to catching the rifle’s power pack with her blade, and blowing the both of them up.
Lesson lodged in her brain, Asajj turned to the stairs and ran up them to the huge double doors standing between her and justice. A furious cross cut with the lightsaber took care of the obstacle of the doors.
Keeping her blade raised in case of blaster fire from the other side, she stepped back to avoid the heavy triangles of reinforced plasteel from striking her. Their weight alone could easily break or dislocate bones and joints. However, what she saw behind the doors stopped Asajj in her tracks. It wasn’t a whole army of heavily armed Weequay criminals, it was a wall of ray shields. She counted five emitters on the walls, floor and ceiling, each overlapping and protecting the others.
She didn’t bother bashing the shields with her lightsaber, it would do nothing more than drain the powercell. She did however slash deep gouges out of the durasteel bricks that made up the walls but there were more ray shields hidden in the walls. There could be gaps in the network she could take advantage of but it might take hours to locate them and it would be a huge risk, keeping her in harms-way throughout.
A great hot wave of frustration washed over her and with it came a white-hot rage. Her lips curled back from her teeth and she screeched long and loud, the power of the emotion forcing her gritted teeth to snap apart like an animal trap. It took a long time for the rage to subside and when she opened her eyes, Asajj was shocked by the carnage she had created with her lightsaber in her anger and grief.
There were no doors remaining, just unidentifiable sticks of trash littering a blackened, gouged ground. The durasteel bricks were just as much of a mess. A cloud of brick-dust suffused the hot air around the entrance to the stronghold.
It was a strange and unpleasant sensation to awake from a red mist of rage, equivalent to a temporary mental blackout. She stepped back to the top of the stairs. There was no one around. No Weequay at the windows, no snipers, no one goading her for her failure to gain entry. She sheathed the blade of her lightsaber and backed down the stairs carefully, walking backwards, keeping her senses acute for attacks. No one tried anything. She saw no one and heard no one.
<><><>
Asajj meditated in a cooling water fountain. The water was nowhere near cold, but neither was it scalding hot. Just pleasantly warm. She had stripped off and sat in the circular pool. There was a glasteel dome over the fountain, catching the rising steam from the ground heated water and condensing it. Every few minutes the weight of the water would cause a sudden random rainfall over the fountain adding a cascade of delight to Asajj’s naked flesh. She focussed on the lightsaber that sat atop her folded clothing just out of reach of the water’s spray. It might well be ‘hers’ now, but it had been Ky’s.
She sensed the presence of the old man, standing in the doorway that opened onto the small enclosed square where she had discovered the water fountain. She ignored him, just kept a connection to him through the Force, sensing not only his presence and proximity but also his emotions. He was staring at her, taking in her naked, slender though taut figure, with a hunger that feed his seemingly always present lust. A dirty old man then. Fantastic.
Asajj tried to focus her thoughts on the problem of the ray-shielded stronghold, already having recognised the weak point would be the power being supplied to the network of shields. No privately purchasable internal generator would be able to produce enough power to supply its entire system, meaning it would have to be powered by the capital city’s own grid.

Strangely, even though she felt her focus was well attuned, her thoughts continued to stray toward the dirty old man. She kept catching whiffs of his thoughts. And he seemed to have a surprisingly colourful and strong imagination. She saw herself through his eyes. The image of her naked, pale flesh. The smooth milk white skin held reflected dances of water-refracted light that played off her taut curves. She wore multicoloured living highlights on the undercurves of her abdominals, her inner arms, though blatantly his eyes stared at the crystalline play of the rainbow light over the deeper undercurves of her high, firm breasts.
Then his mind shifted suddenly to a woman he had liked at his workplace. Though human, and dark skinned with dark brown eyes, she had hair like Asajj’s, short around the back and sides but longer on top. And like Asajj’s this woman’s was brushed forward over her forehead to tickle her brows and lashes. Asajj used that at times infuriating tickle as an exercise against distractions. If she could immerse herself in the Force and forget that irritation, she was doing it right. His thoughts of the woman turned sexual, his eyes accosting her, suckling on her lithe curvaceous figure. She was bigger than Asajj, a little fleshier, apparently less physical and less active, so the fat wasn’t burned off quite as much. However, she was no Hutt she was certainly slender built, just softer, curvier.
His attention abruptly slipped free of the woman from work and refocussed on Asajj, seated naked, hip deep in the glistening water. He fantasised lasciviously, picturing him going over and kissing her, pushing his tongue into her mouth. Caressing her breasts, sucking her nipples. Sliding a questing hand down her muscular stomach, her abdominals, finding her pubis, until he penetrated her with a finger and then two. His thoughts switched back to the woman at his work place momentarily.

Through his memories Asajj observed the lack of attention directed at the dirty old man. The woman didn’t seem to show any interest in him at all. However, Asajj had already moved her attention, within his memory, toward the environment behind them that they both worked in. It was a power grid, for the distribution and maintenance of electricity.
And she knew then that the Force was giving her assistance, showing her the way forward. The Force might even had supplied the dirty old man to her. Perhaps even revealing a way of securing his aid.
However, she baulked at the prospect. The lessons from Ky and her training both kicking in to warn her. She didn’t fear the risk of attachment to this old human. However, the prospect of such blatant intimacy frightened her, making her shiver. It was a major risk and forbidden by the Order.
For a moment the idea came into her head to use the woman from his workplace as a proxy. Asajj pictured herself making use of her hopefully weak mind to arrange a physical tryst with the dirty old man in return for his aid with the power distribution. But again, her training kicked in. That wouldn’t be right, either. Perhaps even a higher degree of sin in the doctrine of the Order. Self-sacrifice was the more honourable path, that was the Jedi way. Selflessness, not taking advantage of others for personal gain, that was the Jedi way.
More of the Jedi doctrine slid into her head - that revenge was not the Jedi way, and that death was not death at all but merely a transition back into the Force. However, this was not revenge, this was justice. This was the removal of a destructive criminal element that Ky and herself had been fighting to accomplish for years. And if death was nothing more than a return to the Force, then there wasn’t a problem with returning such criminals to the Force too, if it meant peace and happier days and nights for all the innocent people living out their lives in the Rattataki capital.
She slowly rose from the water, opening her eyes and fixing her gaze and her smile on the dirty old man. Though at the same time she felt profound pangs of anxiety. Not only was sexuality and those kinds of intimate relationships something she never thought she would have to experience, as a member of the Order but now all those related unknowns started to rise to the surface. How it would be? Would she please him? Would he laugh at her due to her ignorance, naïveté and inexperience? What were the consequences for herself both as a prospective Jedi Knight and for her as a person? It amounted to a list of unknowns for her. Also, though her understanding came from a safe distance, she had witnessed enough of love and lust and romantic relationships to recognise that, at least on certain levels, it was complicated and often fraught with pain and suffering. Still, it seemed to her that this opportunity to engage with the dirty old man was the will of the Force, as though it had somehow orchestrated this particular meeting at this particular time.

This would have been one of those occasions when she would have questioned her master as to the will of the Force and of the concept of the Force as an actual ‘consciousness’. She had never really asked before. The Jedi Order were believers in destiny. Ky had told her that much. In fact, he had said on more than one occasion that he believed his becoming stranded on this world had meant to happen in order for the two of them to meet, so that he could train Asajj to grow to become a Jedi.
However, before all of that, came her burning need for justice. For Ky. And for herself, left behind and alone. And to enable justice, she would have to convince this dirty old man to help her. She knew the simplest way, of course, but something stopped her from just crossing the square without clothing and offering the use of her body in exchange for his help.
Still, it was obvious what he would want and she honestly didn’t have anything else to offer him, at least, not unless he alluded to something himself. She would need to instigate some kind of communication at least to affirm his interest.
Standing still, ankle deep in the water, Asajj allowed gravity to drain the droplets from her and for the mantle’s ground heat to evaporate the remaining droplets. He stood there in silence, watching, a small smile playing across thin lips. Intentionally slowly, the naked Zabrak stepped gracefully out of the pool, her bare feet hissing on the flagstones.
She felt intimately aware of the difference between them. Him fully clothed, his old body bulky and hairy, wrinkled and lined and overall wild and unkempt. Her naked, youthful, slim and taut, her compact and powerful body completely hairless, other than the short-cropped mane.
According to a medical examination early on, Asajj’s lack of body hair appeared to have been the result of some Dathomiri procedure. She never grew body hair anywhere other than eyelashes and, on her head. And her skull hair never seemed to grow particularly long. She had tattooed narrow eyebrows to give her eyes definition but other than that, her body was silken smooth and bare.
She wouldn’t allow herself to cross the square naked and offer her body in return for help with her problem. Her training, actually the voice of Ky in her head, prohibited such overtly carnal behaviour... Or was it merely her own fear? Finally, she decided that she had already given him plenty to see, the chance to evaluate the merchandise, so to speak and the promise of what he might be due. So, instead she dressed. Though she was deliberately slow in her actions, letting him see her from every angle.
She finally crossed the triangle of dead space between the fountain and the dirty old man, placed herself in his doorway, allowing her hips to sway and her mostly unrestrained breasts to bounce to the off-beat of her graceful strides. Her eyes were locked on his, her little smile was playfully sultry whereas his was of rampant lust and hunger. Though inside she quaked with tension and nervousness. And she was somewhat relieved when he broke the silence, as she approached, grateful to have an opening to respond to, rather than having to break the ice herself.
  “Well, more a sight for sore eyes I never did come across.” He sang in gruffly amused basic, his eyes deliberately trailing up and down her figure.
Asajj had never felt so exposed before. Or, inextricably, ever so seen. As a woman. As a young adult. As a sexual being. It scared her and she had to let out a long slow breath to keep the simmering shakes at bay.
“I require your assistance, sir.” She said, sounding young and naïve and helpless to her own ears.
“And what, might I ask, would induce me to give you such assistance, young one?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Well, what makes you think I could help, if your offering were to be accepted?”
“I need the power to this part of the city turned off… For a only short time. A few seconds, no more.”
“Not an easy request. Though I could, I believe, help you…. should the price prove worthy… And in advance.”
“What is it you want?” She asked, it came across as a childlike gasp.
“What I see before me.” He said with a grin, his eyes slowly trailing down and up her body. “For half a planet-rotation.”
“You haven’t said if you can do what I need.”
“I can, certainly.” He smiled, his eyes drinking in the exposed inner curves of her breasts. “It is little more than the push of a button. Though I would have to fake a requisition from the sector council so I am not removed from my post, or sued, or imprisoned. That would take a little time.”
“But something you can do?”
“Absolutely, acquisition of authorisation keys, the name of an appropriate councillor, and the location address-code of his or her terminal in the council building. Simple enough. An appropriate digital signature from their code-cylinder. I have access to all that information, but to collate and input all that data onto the correct requisition form will take me some time. And of course, I cannot do any of that until I am at my own desk terminal during my next shift. Tomorrow morn…”
“…So, if you were to stay with me until then,” He grinned, his eyes finally finding hers, “I would consider your debt fully paid.”
“Yet I would not be the one indebted,” She corrected with a frown, “you would be indebted to me.”
“Very well.” He said with a shrug. “And I would not care to welch on a debt to you. I have heard of your skills, young one, and would not want to be amongst those in your sights. Once I have formulated and logged the requisition, it will simply be a matter of you informing me when to cut the power. And as I said, the act is nothing more than a button push or two.”
“Very well... I agree to your terms.” She felt her cheeks growing hot and her stomach churned uncomfortably.
“Excellent. Come with me.”
She took the four steps elevating every building on Rattatak from its ground level, to help dissipate the ground heat with free air flow, and followed him through the nondescript plasteel door. The door led her into a shadowy, low-ceilinged chamber with sandy coloured walls, planks of polished wood as the floor and deep-set windows with translucent drapes across them. The drapes were gathered in loops which covered the windows and filtered the light into the room, casting a warm soft orange glow around the interior. The drapes were suspended from poles that themselves were attached to shelves a half metre from the ceiling. The shelves contained knickknacks, books, tools, spare bedding and a whole variety of other items.
The chamber was split into three. At the opposite end was a living room and kitchen, with a door leading off to a fresher room. While the rear, where Asajj had been led, was the bedroom. There was a four-poster bed in the centre, with a flat-topped chest at its foot. Alcoves in the thick walls contained more usual bedroom belongings, and there was also a freestanding closet by the door.
The dirty old man turned and made a grab for her at once. One palm slid gently down the smooth, soft side of her face and the long slender line of her throat, while the other quickly cupped and squeezed one of her breasts, then flicked the earthen robe strap from her shoulder then started to try and pull the garment off her hurriedly, while his eyes bulged with hunger at the not large yet impossibly perky breast. He groaned at the way the pale teardrop of her flesh made the rose-pink nipple and the small disk of the areola stand out like a glow-lamp in a darkroom. With an almost savage groan, he yanked and tugged at the thin, silky fabric of her robes.
“Wait, just wait.” She gasped. “You’ll damage my robe, and these are the only ones I have!”
She knew she was just trying to delay the inevitable, but now that the arrangement was made and it was about to happen, she felt the anxiety rising. Urgently, she slapped his hands away and the slipped back out of range of his insistently reaching fingers. He grumbled in frustration but didn’t pursue her. Asajj could smell the lust oozing, thick and pungent from the very pores of his age mottled skin.
“So, strip and get on the bed, young lady! We’re on the clock and I would certainly like to make the most of your sweet body.”
“I would at least like something to drink first…?”
She was still trying to delay the inevitable. Little creatures were dancing around behind her taut abdominals. And she felt tingly all over, overfilled with nervous energy. Shaking like a sunlight engine during lift-off. He grinned suddenly at her suggestion.
“How about a couple of shots of meilip juice?”
“Is that not made from fermented meiloorun pips?”
“I’m afraid it’s all I have.”
“And we both know very well that’s a potent, and strictly illegal narcotic.”
“And aphrodisiac… But I won’t be telling if you don’t. And it would make both of our experiences that much better.”
“No. Just…”
She sighed, knowing she didn’t have any choice. And that there was really no point in delaying this.
“…Just let me get undressed.”
“Oh, please do.” He said, gloating with excitement his eyes blatantly assaulting her.
<><><>
“Now.”
Asajj snapped into the comlink that was gripped in her left fist. There was a crackle of static and then a muffled whisper came through.
  “Stand by.”
A breathless second later, the swirling blue haze of the ray shields vanished, along with all the illumination throughout this sector of the city. Glowlamps casting their circles of light onto the roads and pavements, lights in houses and shops, illuminated advertising boards. A few places had back-up generators so there were little havens of light dotted around here and there, mostly in the distance. However, most lighted places were pitched into utter darkness and every pre-existing shadow had turned black as pitch and spread to twice their circumference, absorbing detail and dawning every possible imagined terror in their absorbing depths.
Asajj drew on the Force. Reaching out through the invisible mist of life-energy, using its universal touch to feel ahead of herself, enabling its power to light the way for her. And the way was straight ahead, along the central corridor into the fortified mansion.
She knew her target wouldn’t have left the stronghold. Afterall, what would be the point of having a stronghold in the first place? She felt throbbing of discomfort throughout her body, her breasts felt tender and bruised, her nipples raw and bitten, her lower lips felt the same. Her jaw ached from over-stretching, the skin around her mouth was tender and itchy and her throat shared the rawness, battered, bruised and irritated. Through worse than any of it were the pulsing cramps in her groin, her inner lips felt tender and stretched, the muscles inside her felt worn and raw and the tight cramping was insistent, like needles piercing her flesh. But there was nothing she could do about any of it.
She had carefully used analgesics, put up with the sting of disinfectants, had bathed again and again until the presence of his liberal administerings had faded, though she still felt phantoms of his pearlescent fluid trickling within her, making her afraid and discomforted, concerned about impregnation, however interspecies it might be and so probably impossible. Even though she had taken medicines to alleviate the problem just in case. But then there was also the possibility of all manner of infections and viral and bacterial deposits.
The distraction almost got her killed. Some clever Weequay assassin had sneaked forward and positioned herself at the far end of the pitch-black corridor. She carried a blaster rifle switched into sniper configuration and with a light intensifying macroscope. And from the assassin’s point of view, with the residual light of the night sky and the permacrete of the buildings as a backdrop, Asajj was perfectly silhouetted, practically a paper target standing there waiting for the ray shields to drop.
It was only her Force augmented reactions that saved her. She heard the click of the depressed trigger and the Force took over her body moving forward and to her right, her upper body dipping low while her legs pumped impossibly quickly.
She felt the blaster bolt erupt past her shoulder, momentarily illuminating the wide corridor in hellish crimson, before it was superseded by a flash of emerald, replacing the blood red hue. However, Asajj didn’t even realise it had been her own drawn blade that had been the cause, not until she had cut the Weequay and her blaster rifle in two halves.
The shock of the near miss focussed the young Zabrak’s mind. As she made her way through the lower floor of the mansion, she used the Force to feel her way around and gauge the size, shape and interconnectivity of the rooms. And killing Weequay gang members as she came across them.
The sense of victory, of accomplishment and satisfaction, as she waded through the score and more of the aliens, felt very gratifying. As did the ability to use her training with such abandon. The sense of power was hot and raging throughout her body and only seemed to intensify as she killed each Weequay male and female she came across.
Being a single assaulter against an unknown number of enemies, Asajj wasn’t about to leave herself open to attacks from the rear so she didn’t take prisoners. Also, a wounded Weequay was still a danger, if they had a concealed blaster, or detonator or vibroblade they would absolutely remain a risk to her. So, she didn’t leave wounded either. She cut them down, making sure they couldn’t pose a risk to her again. It was all the justification she required.
She got to the bottom of the staircase and found she was facing a tripod-mounted Tostovin light repeater with a separate plugin powercell. Fortunately, the tripod didn’t allow for the repeating blaster to be point straight down toward the bottom of the stairs, Asajj would have to get to halfway up before its fat muzzle would align with her head.
Having drawn her SE14 blaster, Asajj focussed the Force within her and then ran at the wall of the staircase. She kicked off it, using the Force to accelerate her body as well as focus her aim with the blaster. She shot the Tostovin’s powercell, in this case a cylinder on the ground beside the tripod with a cable that transported the ionised gas into the blaster’s XCiter chamber.
As it had with the sniper outside, the powercell turned into an explosive device, releasing the pressurised gas and at the same moment igniting it, the blast created a rapidly expanding ball of plasma fire, like ball-lightning.
It took out the whole of the landing at the top of the stairs, leaving behind a deafening ringing in the ears, a thick plume of dirty black smoke and Weequay body parts, more than enough for one alien but impossible to discern exactly how many. Asajj holstered the blaster, having previously made an adjustment to the belt so she could buckle it around her waist, and unclipped her lightsaber again. She leaped onto the landing and then, holding her breath while she used the cloying oily smoke as cover, she reached through the Force to seek out the next gathering of Weequay.
The Force told her of the men minutes before they made their noises in the dark. They were obviously waiting for her to move into their line of fire. Once again focussing the Force emanating from within, she accelerated sprinting along the corridor into the midst of the next group, only drawing her blade once she was in amongst them.
Any severed limbs were supplemental to bisected torsos and heads. Though the last of them she gleefully removed all four of his limbs leaving a head and torso, not dead but too deeply in shock to scream. She silenced him for good once she had caught her breath.
The last of them were on the other side of the room to the rear of the stronghold. Huge, thick double doors stood between her and the people inside. Gold inlay on crimson plasteel. Beyond those doors, at the far end of a narrow corridor were too more identical doors which then led to another larger chamber.
The burning fury built in her, she was almost there. Almost at the man responsible for her master’s murder. She drew a breath, and the Force. And then gripping the saber hilt between her teeth, she drew her hands up before her. Channelling the power of the Force she shoved forward with both palms, sending the closer pair of doors off their hinges, down the length of the corridor and then into the second pair. All four doors swept straight through and into the chamber beyond, eliciting cries of shock and at least one grunt of pain. Asajj flew in right behind, dropping her weapon into her open hand as the doors ran the blockade for her.
She found herself in an office with a big desk in the centre of the room and colourful folding partitions in all four corners. There were five Weequay, all armed with big bulky blaster carbines. And then there were none. Or at least none surviving.
She had seen the sixth, or at least the shadowy silhouette of him, dart away into a chamber beyond the office. Blaster bolts started to burst from that chamber, as well as desperate shouts, screams and curses in a number of languages.
“You had my master killed. Prepare yourself for hell. Because that’s where your dismembered body is going!” She screamed back at the terrified Weequay.
She had no real way of knowing if this was the boss or if she had already killed him, but chances were, he would be the last man standing. These warlord types tended to put their men before them, as shields, until there were no men left.
She stepped deliberately into his line of fire and deflected the last three blaster bolts, though not directly back along the same trajectory, she didn’t want him to die too quickly. She wanted to see the terror in his eyes, to hear his pleas for mercy. She wanted to look into his eyes as she cut him to pieces, slowly, hands and feet, knees and elbows, ears and chin horns, nose and genitals. Who knows how far she would go.
The blaster began to overheat. He was firing too fast, not allowing any energy dissipation. He yelled in shock as the emergency beeps sounded. She saw the blaster tossed toward her way, an impromptu bomb. Asajj caught it through the Force and cast it aside. Then skipped forward into the far chamber. It was a bedroom.
A human woman lay on the floor, a fatal blaster burn across her throat. Perhaps it had been due to one of Asajj’s blind deflections. A blue skinned Twi’lek crouched at the side of the large four poster bed, curled up on the floor. A chain attached to the slave collar around her throat connecting her to the lavish curling filigree of the headboard. A sandy skinned Theelin woman, equally naked, lay face down across the bed, head buried in a pillow with her hands over her ears, though her head appeared to be little more than a thick mane of bright orange curls.
Seeing the bed and the sex slaves brought Asajj snapping back to her own harried deflowering the previous day.
<><><>
Even as she kicked off her shoes, removed her belt and unclipped the fastening linking the scoop of her upper garment to her loincloth, the dirty old man grabbed Asajj by the upper arm and was pulling her over toward the bed.
She was too busy trying to free herself of the rise of her increasingly abject fear to object to his urgent, harsh manhandling. The words of her master - that fear and anger were both strong and easy paths to the Darkside, and that the Jedi were always compassionate and selfless, were bouncing around in her head. To get what she needed, she had to submit, to allow the old man to use her body to pleasure himself. Hell, from one point of view, even that could be considered selfless and compassionate. And it wasn’t like he would actually hurt her; he was just an old man. She would merely have to keep her fear and her temper in check and go along with his desires. It would be a good training exercise, she told herself.
Of course, inexperienced in sexual matters and didn’t know what was considered acceptable or normal, not for her own species and certainly not for others. Who knew what humans found normal and acceptable when it came to matters of intercourse?
She untucked the rear flaps of her upper garment from the back of her loosened belt and then slipped the ‘U’ shaped top off completely, then unbuttoned the waistband of her loose leggings and stepped out of them. Finally, peeling down the skimpy undergarment, leaving her naked.
Before she knew it, she was dragged over toward the bed. Both of them stood at the side of his bed, the dirty old man suddenly wrapping both arms possessively around Asajj, he pressed his lips urgently onto hers.
The pressure of his mouth ground her lips, against her teeth and she bristled at the feel of his stubble and his rather rough lips, mashing against her soft pale skin. Then his tongue pushed out from between his lips and started to insinuate itself between hers, meeting her teeth. He grunted, an expressive sound that told her in no uncertain terms what he wanted. She parted her lips a little. His tongue immediately thrust into her mouth and writhed against her own. She reacted naturally, almost mindlessly and their tongues rolled together, licking and probing.
And despite her inhibited feelings, the alien sensation and her honest dislike of this dirty old man, Asajj felt a sudden heat bathing her. It not only came to her cheeks, throat and upper chest but also developed somewhere further down. She acknowledged the increasing beat of her heart at this new experience and the warming proximity of this big strong older male, however that other heat seemed unrelated. It was behind and below her abdominals in the midst of her pelvis. And it was strange and strangely exciting. A hot tingle, that almost housed some kind of wordless implied promise.
His urgent, clawing hands caressed the tight interconnecting muscles of her shapely back, following the ‘s’ curve of her neck-shoulders-waist, down to the concave dip below her slender waist. And then his hands slid down further still, caressing her taut buttocks. His fingers hooked into their pronounced undercurves and squeezed firmly, pulling her, lifting her onto her tiptoes. Asajj had only ever thought of her buttocks before as a powerful set of muscles that aided her legs, her ability to leap and run. And in a way they represented the very centre of her balance, her centre of gravity. However, the sensitivity of this man’s illicit touch, the way his firm hands excitedly squeezed and caressed them, and the obvious physical pleasure he gained from touching her there, opened her eyes and developed a new degree of realisation. And embarrassment. It was like she hadn’t known her ass was an erogenous zone or a point of allure for those with sexual interest in her. She had simply never thought of it in those terms before.
The kiss rolled on along with the groping; forceful and domineering. And Asajj could do nothing more than follow his lead. But then he pulled away, smacking his lips and grinning. He took a step back and as she stood there, a confused statue, he roamed her nakedness with his burning eyes.
And then he started to undress himself. Once he had awkwardly kicked off his boots and his utility belt, tossing them mindlessly aside, he shrugged off his jacket, then worked apart the fastenings of the shirt beneath it, the fastenings travelled up one side and down the same sleeve. The trousers were the last to come off, and a low but unmistakable rankness of stale sweat wafted across her nostrils. Asajj used an idle mediation to focus her attention elsewhere. Unfortunately, that was the same moment his erect penis was unveiled and she saw it up close for the first time.
She had seen Ky naked before, when bathing after strenuous training. Both had seen the other devoid of clothing numerous times over their years together. However, it had only ever been simple anatomical awareness and education, there had never been anything illicit or sexual. Even when he had answered questions on anatomy and biological reproduction, using them both as anatomical examples, it had never developed beyond an academic and scientific exercise. She had never witnessed a penis in its erect state and had never experienced or witnessed sexual practice in action, other than casual glimpses of non-sentient animals following their seasonal instincts.
The dirty old man seemed large and thick bodied. His belly bulged, his limbs were pronounced and broad. Though any muscle he might have, was concealed between a thick layer of fat and much of his naked flesh was covered in dark wiry hair. Asajj was momentarily reminded of an encyclopaedia-holo of a Yuzzum she had stumbled across while reading one night and the memory almost brought a smile to her face. Instead, it reminded her of Ky and the loss she felt following his murder, the rage that was like a hot lump of iron in her gut and it massed her determination to go through with this unsavoury sexual bargain.
She stared down at the dirty old man’s erection. It was sturdy, thickly cylindrical with a pronounced crown that was shaped a little like a Nemoidian soldier’s helm. The flesh, pulsing with blood and mapped with bulging veins was almost grey in the light, pale though with a hint of pinkish hue that breathed life into the pallor. The helmet by contrast was flushed a pinkish purple, like exposed dermal layer, as though it brimmed with fresh life. And the blood-pulse that made it throb and sway even hinted at the semblance of independent life. It was nested in a wiry patch of sweat glistening hair. While from beneath suspended a sack of that same grey-pink flesh also shot through colourful veins. The sack was also filled with a pair of balls that were big and by the way they pulled the fleshy sack taut, heavy. It was only belatedly that Asajj realised the dirty old man was speaking to her.
“What am I supposed to do?” She gasped.
“We can start slow, jedi-girl, don’t worry. Why don’t you touch it… Touch it now.” The last comment was an insistent command.
“V… very well…”
It was very warm under her sweating palm, and Asajj realised that even with both hands gripping the shaft in her basic ‘lightsaber grip’, one atop the other, that purple helmet would still remain outside of her grasp.
“You see, it ain’t so bad, is it?”
The covering flesh actually moved, like a sheath, fixed yet malleable and surprisingly silky to the touch. The heat emanating from his member was surprising. She slid her hand along the shaft, drawing the sheath of soft skin back and forth over the bloated helmet. And the dirty old man groaned in response.
“Look up at me, keep those big ice-blue eyes on mine.”
He slid the back of his hand up the outer curves of her soft breasts, avoiding her hardened nipples yet Asajj couldn’t avoid a little quiver dancing through her body at the light, tickling touch. Her anxiety fought with an odd sensation she could hardly understand, a tingling that danced through her upper body, compounding the emanating heat that continued to build behind her bare pubis. Then the backs of his fingers brushed against one of her nipples and then the other, she let out an involuntary gasp and a jolt of electricity darted through her body, starting at the point where his fingers touched her nipples and bursting outward, like bolts of lightning, taking its power down into that growing ball of heat beneath her abdomen, feeding it and making her legs tremble. She had to lock her knees tight to keep them from buckling. A tingling wave slid through her body, into her brain like a hot blade. She felt endorphins blazing. Clinically she understood it, but emotionally it was new and strangely overwhelming.
She realised that she had been moaning. Her nipples felt hard as crystals and thin film of sweat had formed on her skin, her brow, her throat, her pits of her trembling arms, she could feel a trickle running down her inner thighs. Another ran down along her arched spine.
“I like these nice nipples, nice and hard, long enough to get a proper hold of.”
He had both her stiffened teats pinched between fingers and thumbs and was pulling and squeezing them. She felt herself moan again and a responsive gyration made her body jerk and more quivers danced down her back and her thighs. Her buttocks were so subconsciously clenched that they were almost cramping, but she couldn’t find a way to relax. She whimpered a little. Felt herself chewing on the plump cushion of her bottom lip. Her fist on his penis was squeezing hard and working back and forth on autopilot, her pace had somehow quickened. Perhaps a response to the endorphins. He finally released the pinch on her nipples and instead filled both hands with the semi-spheres of her breasts, squeezing and pulling them. Asajj found herself inexplicably panting.
“Are all Jedi as lovely as you?”
“Wha…?” She barely comprehended his words; it was like listening to a conversation from underwater.
Asajj waited patiently. She used her training, both with the Force and with Ky’s mindful psychology, to subdue her anxieties and her burgeoning annoyance at her treatment by him. He had suddenly turned her into a piece of meat, an automaton to be enjoyed. His physical desire had overwritten his own uncertainty and whatever respect or fear he might have felt toward her, now he just wanted her, to use her body to give him pleasure. That was all she was to him.
“You’re stroking it good. But now, spit on it.”
“Spit?”
“Dribble saliva over it, and then work it in with your hand. Rotate your hand as you do it. Yes, girl, that’s it.”
He somehow had her doing what he said without thought, never mind complaint, and Asajj felt like she was weak of mind as though he was controlling her through the Force. She simply found herself doing whatever she was told. Mindless and compliant. On one level she was doing what she must, on the other it was making her angry. But she fought to subdue the latter emotion and focus on doing what she must.
“Cup my balls with your other hand. Squeeze them, but… gently.”
There was perhaps a minute of her handling his shaft and his scrotum before she suddenly found herself pressured down onto the floor in a kneeling position. He towered over her suddenly, seeming so much big and heavier and Asajj felt her anxiety rising. Even his penis, which now gleamed with her saliva, seemed so much bigger. And it was over her face, monolithic. She was looking up past it to stare into his eyes just as he had commanded her.
“Now your mouth, take it in your mouth.”
Asajj parted her lips, instinct telling her combined friction and lubrication were the way to go. She gathered saliva, pursed her lips around the blunt helmet and then slid forward, finding immediate gratification by the depth of pleasure evident in the groan he let out.
“Suck it...” He commanded, a guttural groan of instruction. “Lick it and suck it.”
Keeping her lips pursed around his circumference, Asajj pushed herself along the hot heavy length. It felt uncomfortable, foreign, unpleasant, unnatural somehow. Still, she gathered her inner strength and pushed onward. Fighting down the discomfort and the fear and the desire to free it from her lips. It didn’t taste particularly pleasant and its heat and size was overwhelming. And then it slid in as deep as she could stand and she paused, focussing instead on pleasing him with rapid and intense tongue motions.
“Deep into your mouth… deeper…” He groaned. “All the way in…”
He grabbed her head, just for a moment and pulled, urging her physically but released her almost at once. He wanted her to make the effort. He wanted her to learn, not simply to be forced. She pushed herself further down the shaft but almost instantly her mouth and the proximity to her throat rejected her efforts. She noisily gagged, a wave of saliva splurged into her mouth and over the male’s member. Instinctively, she started to pull away.
He stopped her, once again his hands grabbed her head and halted her attempt to pull away. Asajj had to fight down her anger and frustration with his behaviour. She reminded herself of why she was allowing this man to treat her this way, reminded herself why she was doing this.
“All the way in I said.” He snapped.
He urged her again with a firm tug before releasing her skull and allowing her the chance to prove herself. She failed. She pushed it toward the back of her throat but again her gag reflex cut in, her throat muscles constricted and more saliva flowed. Instinct once again took over and she tried to pull away, snatching down the urge to curse, to strike him, to bite. However, he appeared to be done with giving her chances. And this time when he grabbed her head, he clung on, fingers pressing painfully into the flesh of her scalp, pulling at her cropped hair while he drove her forcefully into his crotch, simultaneously stabbing forward with his hips.
“All. The. Way. In!” He grunted, punctuating each word with a rough pelvic thrust.
With each of those thrusts, Asajj felt the blunt heat of his helmet stabbing deeper and deeper. She gagged, spluttered and choked but he paid no attention to her discomfort. He found the entrance to her throat, plugged it with the head of his organ and then thrust hard, popped on through. Her saliva flooded mouth protected her from the rawness of the friction but still, Asajj panicked and struggled, desperate to free herself. Struggled to breathe. And at the same time, she also struggled to fight her own dark urges and to maintain her self-control. Struggled to keep from reaching into the Force to violently halt this grave, brutal assault. And inflict an appropriate punishment.
He kept on with the face-bruising pelvic punches until his hairy flesh was pressed fiercely up against her face, the entire length of his organ between her spread lips. It felt like the crown was somewhere behind her sternum and that the entire tube of her oesophagus was distended and stretched out of proportion.
“Mmmmm… That was good.” He said at last, in a long pleasure-filled groan. “That’ll do for now.”
He ungently dragged his length out of her throat and mouth. Asajj instantly found herself bathed in the thick flow of slimy, bubbly saliva that his withdrawal had dragged out of her oesophagus, drenching her from her bottom lip to the tops of her thighs. In a second, the flow went from warm to bitterly cold, her flesh cinched and rose in reactive pimples. She felt her nipples stiffen until they were literally aching, while something inside her cramped and the heat in her core simmered and churned, the sensations within her intensifying.
He bent down grabbed her under the arms, and surprising her with his physicality, hauled the Asajj to her feet and then tossed her onto the bed. He followed her onto the mattress, lay himself down on his back, and then reached over to where she half lay, half crouched, cupped his hands around either side of her skull and pulled her face over to his groin again. Giving herself over to his silent demands, Asajj clambered on her hands and knees until she was crouched between his spread legs her face hovering over his slick erection.
He kept hold of her head and pressed her down onto his shaft. Pushed his shaft halfway into her mouth and then, holding her steady, began to thrust rapidly up and down with his hips, grunting out his pleasure in time to his driving thrusts. Instinctively she didn’t wrap a hand around his shaft as she dearly wanted to. Instead placing her hands onto his inner thighs. The dirty old man released her head and concentrated instead on bouncing his hips up and down in her face. He ordered her again to keep her eyes on his and to push her mouth down in time to his upthrusts.
It lasted a while, until she could taste and feel the precum secretions splashing against her tongue and the insides of her cheeks. His erection grew harder and more solid, stretching her lips even more. And that was when he finally stopped.
Again, Asajj was hurriedly manhandled into position. They essentially exchanged places, she laid out on her back with her legs spread outside of his flabby bulk, while he knelt and then leaned forward He climbed over her body until he was face to face with her, staring down at her with his glistening erection, like a vibro-lance, jutting forward from his bulging hairy loins and pointing precisely at the crux of her pale naked thighs.
This was it, Asajj realised. She was about to experience sexual congress for the first, and hopefully only time. Once she had ended the lives of the last of the Weequay gang and their leader, the one who had ordered her master’s murder, she would be able to leave for Coruscant, join the Order and put her whole life thus far behind her. However, as she lay there, submissive, her long pale legs spread wide, providing access of the inside of her body to this vile, corpulent, domineering man, she felt herself cringing in a blast of fear and anxiety. She was giving him permission to do something she knew should not be given to such a male as him. Even if she weren’t planning to join the Order, she recognised the importance of the decision of just who should be the first to share her body in this way.
It was the act of genetic promulgation and it was not to be taken lightly. Of course, she would not allow herself to be impregnated by this man, her available medical supplies would deal with that. However, the importance of choosing whose genetic material be allowed to achieve another generation’s existence was not lost on her and the simple act of making her body available to absorb such genetic material was of extreme import.
She felt a wave of horror. Nausea gripped her, her stomach churned and the urge to pull her legs together and roll out from under him was powerful. She felt herself shaking, felt the word “stop” sitting there on the tip of her tongue. She felt her hands reach up to grasp his upper arms, as though in preparation to push him away.
But then he was shuffling forward, lowering his weight, leaning in until she felt that blunt hardness of fleshy heat bump against the top of her thigh, her vulva, momentarily her puckered anus. But then a shift of his hips found the right angle and his helmet was pressing against her inner lips and Asajj felt her body opening for him. For his use.
Though inexperienced and essentially uneducated in such matters, she felt implicitly that there was a right and a wrong way to go about this activity for the first time, for every time, and this choice was the wrong one. In the midst of that clarity, a moment of disbelief washed over Asajj, she felt numb, silent, though somehow shocked that she was lying still under this vile Human male and exposed for to his coming assault.
Her face creased up, tears brimming in her squeezed shut eyes. And for a second she was all too aware of how her face must look, brow knitted, lips pulled back, teeth gritted, jaws locked, nostrils flared. Body laid wide open, limbs akimbo and yet locked up tight, her muscles corded and bunching under intense strain.
And then everything whited out as she felt the bulbous crown pushing between her lips, honing in on the small and snug reproductive channel and then pressuring its way inside her. The dirty old man let out a long groan of pleasure as Asajj fought down a long whimper of defeat and loss and helplessness.
Once her tunnel mouth was stretched firmly around the circumference of his bulbous helmet, the stretch eliciting a hot and strained sensation between the tops of her slender thighs, the dirty old man, with an excited groan thrust hard and plunged the whole length of his organ into her.
Asajj felt fortunate that the saliva coating she had applied to his erection aided the penetration, otherwise it would have been nothing less that hot dry itching, aching, agonising friction and possibly torn flesh. She also realised that she was fortunate that early on in her Padawan training, her hymen had already been ruptured due to the sheer physicality of the intense training her master had put her through. She distinctly and fondly remembered he had warned her of the possibility in advance and had also given her time to recover, and that they had spoken about the experience both before and after.
Still, the sudden sensation of being filled, her orifice stretched out in every direction with an alien object that drilled powerfully all the way into her core, was shocking and entirely uncomfortable for her. She arched under him, a groaning hiss bursting involuntarily from her spread lips. She felt her breasts quake, dancing high on her chest in response to her sudden jerking motion. The dirty old man wasted no time in instigating an overt bullying repetition of rapid drilling thrusts, driving his member back and forth inside the slick tightness of her never before used vagina.
He was groaning loudly and vocally about her tightness, her heat, how amazing she felt, the little Zabrak whore. Asajj bristled at the blatantly inaccurate insult, but she snatched again onto Ky’s teachings, that such vocal insults, though painful, showed nothing but ignorance and the inability to intelligently debate, and therefore could not and should not be taken either seriously or to heart.
However, the memory bolstered others and reinforced the recognition of why she was allowing this dirty old man to do this to her. She needed to get those Weequay, she needed to make them pay. She needed her master’s death to be balanced, like for like. A death for a death. And to accomplish that she needed this slob’s assistance. And this vile action was how she was procuring it. And if he proved himself to be a fool, if he tried to cheat her out of his assistance, she would literally tear him limb from limb. She would make his final moments an unendurable horror. And then she would search him out in Hell.
Asajj’s first experience of sexual congress quickly became similar to imaginings of hell. He started the interaction neither gently nor with any attempt at a good natured or mutually enjoyable experience. Instead, he simply maintained the rapid driving with his hips, and putting his weight onto one arm while using the freed hand to casually assault her body. He squeezed her bouncing breasts, pulled and tweaked her nipples, painfully so. He yanked on her hair, stuffed fingers into her mouth, slapped her across the cheeks, even wrapped his fingers around her throat and squeezed until she struggled for air.
The Zabrak teen never felt in danger or particularly hurt but it felt like a series of increasingly degrading humiliations, that she was nothing more to him than an object upon which he could express his pleasure, whatever form that took. He used her reproductive channel for one form of pleasure, and her body to express his apparent dominance, even sadism. And she felt she just had to put up with it.
Again, using the humiliation as a test of her skills, using her Jedi meditations and mindfulness psychology to maintain her calm. She forced herself to accept his simple abuses, to read them, see through them and take the power out of them. She was not entirely successful and felt her anger building up with each inflicted pain or discomfort. However, she didn’t retaliate, didn’t hit him back or Force choke him, or tear his limbs out of their sockets. Though that desire grew and grew within her as he continued to furiously fuck her.
Unknown to him, the dirty old man was ultimately saved some form of retaliation by his own lack of physical health. Unable to hold up his own bulk for very long, he soon lay down on top of her. Forcing Asajj to take his weight, as well as his rough pummelling thrusts. Pinned by his bulk, she felt trapped, weighed down and pinned in place. Her hindered ability to breathe battled with her rising body temperature and general rising panic of someone trapped. She felt her mingled-sweat soaked body flushed all over, hot and increasingly nauseated as she was rocked back and forth. She felt the rise of motion sickness as she was rocking pendulumlike by his humping body on the clammy, uncomfortable mattress.
His thrusts and his guttural hoarse groaning began to increase in pace and volume, revealing that he was finally close to his climax. He pushed himself onto his elbows, his hips and thighs continuing to propel him more and more rapidly inside her lithe young body. He pressed his face to her chest and she felt the wet Hutt-like slobber of his tongue licking her, languid slick trails of saliva dancing over her breasts. And groaning continually in time to his rapid thrusts, he clamped his lips and then his teeth onto a nipple. He nipped and chewed and sucked at it until it felt raw, like an exposed wire. He switched over to her other breast and gave its hard nipple the same treatment.
Asajj was gritting her teeth her, carefully encouraged calm growing increasingly frayed and edgy. Much more of this painful, disdainful treatment and she wouldn’t be able to hold back her temper. Fortunately for the dirty old man, that was when he clamped down, let out a long series of deep throaty snarls and threw his head back, his eyes rolling up into their sockets. She let out a snatched mini-yell at his teeth scraping roughly against her captured nipple as he roughly threw back his head. But again, his actions distracted her from taking mindless retribution to his nasty, assaulting behaviour.
She felt his body tighten, his thighs clenching and quaking against hers. She felt his heavy scrotum, laying against her buttocks, perform a series of jolt-like actions, as though he was involuntarily tensing his pelvic muscles. And then she felt a series of hot pressurised surges ripping into her like blaster bolts, searing her flesh, flaying the length of her vagina, even as his iron hard penis jerked and spasmed inside her.
And then just like that, it was all over. He lay there shivering and moaning out his pleasure for a couple more seconds and then exhaustedly rolled off her, his weight threatening to strain the tendons of her inner thigh for a moment before his body was free of hers. He lay on his back panting and groaning, bathed in sweat, his rank body-hair matted, his flesh mottled in patches of deathly pale and deeply ruddy. Asajj’s smooth and creamier flesh was equally sweat soaked and heat-rash mottled but unlike the dirty old man’s vile appearance, her physical beauty had remained. They lay there panting side by side, Asajj basking in the relatively cool feel of the room’s air caressing her sore, hammer-beaten flesh while the dirty old man fought for breath, while basking in the afterglow of what would more than likely have been the best fuck of his life.
Asajj left him there. She staggered back outside, teeth gritted, rage on a knife edge, feeling the dirty old man’s thick seed trickling out of her and running down her inner thighs as she made her way across the hot paving slabs toward the fountain. She climbed quickly over the low cylindrical wall of the pool and lay down into the fountain’s constantly recycling water. She moaned in pleasure, basking in the cool caress of the liquid, enjoying its relative cold and refreshing touch.
Lying there, looking up at the bright sunny sky, Asajj felt too numbed, too shocked to maintain a hold on her bubbling anger. And she let it go. Her mind thinking ahead to when the dirty old man would perform his promised duty and get her through those ray shields and into the Weequay stronghold where justice awaited her Master. And may the Force show him mercy if he tried to renege on their agreement, because she sure as hell wouldn’t.
<><><>
The overloaded handgun-bomb detonated but Asajj casually reached out through the Force and pressured the blast back on itself, the damage redirected toward the corner of the room.
The male Weequay, the only one not chained to the bed, was at the rear wall of the bedroom to Asajj’s right, trembling as he attempted to force open the window. The glasteel pane swung outward, and with a gasp of relief and desperation the Weequay clambered up onto the ledge.
With a snarl Asajj, reached out to him through the Force and dragged him back into the room. She flipped him, elevating him off the floor by his feet and instinctively squeezing at his throat. She barely even looked at him, she just saw an overweight middle-aged male, suspended above the floor clawing at his throat and making breathless choking noises. Feeling the rage building again, Asajj gleefully drew on the Force and then launched the Weequay across the room, slamming the half-throttled gangster through his own bedroom wall, colourful plastoid coating, ferrocrete bricks and clouds of brick dust flying backward into the bedroom. His body broken, windpipe crushed, found itself in the office chamber where Asajj released her Force grip and let it fall, smearing blood and bodily fluids across the floor.
She advanced to the bed.
Turning the length of her lightsaber blade almost all the way down, she used her the plasma fountain to sever the slave collars around the throats of the two surviving women and then told them that they were free, to take whatever they liked from the stronghold but that they should get as far away was possible. The two naked women ran.
Asajj, feeling numb and still downcast, despite her victory over her master’s murderer, went over to the open window and stared down into the courtyard beyond. There was another rooftop within leaping distance and then a set of exterior stairs that led to the rear yard.
The high walled yard had been converted into a vehicle hangar and maintenance bay. There were droids and maintenance equipment, three Landspeeders and half a dozen swoop bikes. And yet there was only a single interstellar transport. And it was a strange choice too. She would have expected a Corellian ship. A cargo or personnel transport. However, the ship was a MandalMotors Tugboat. Barely large enough to be called a transport. As far as she knew it only had room for two occupants, no living amenities and no armament. It had powerful engines and two powerful capital-ship class tractor beams, yet no hyperdrive. However, on closer inspection, the transport appeared to have been extensively modified from its factory specifications. The hull had been re-plated with thickened armour, and the tractor beam emitters had been replaced with large dual blaster cannons.
She decided to have a closer look at the ship. It would be preferable than simply remaining in the stronghold as a target for more criminals, who would inevitably start to emerge from the sewer-like parts of the city to fill in the power vacuum she had just created. She could even hide out there for the time being, remaining close and observing what happened next. She had already considered putting herself in place of the Weequay warlord. She could rule the entire capital, keeping the criminal elements and corrupt councillors and politicians under her direct control, in order to make the place better for the innocent occupants and traders who tried to live their lives honestly.
Inside the TUG-314 starship, Asajj found out that the interior revealed even more modifications. The power requirements of the tractor beams had been so huge that they had taken up much of the room within the main hull. And with them having been replaced by the blaster cannons, most of that extra room had not been required. The engines were already more powerful than most of that ship’s size so the stock power units had been replaced with smaller ones and a hyperdrive had been installed. Almost as important, a small living area-hold had been installed, repurposed from a fifty-year-old Quadjumper by the looks of it. Two simple crew bunks carved out of the hull, a fresher with a shower and kitchen area. And a small foldout table beside a small corner couch. Behind and beneath the couch were cargo compartments.
The first thing Asajj did was activate the ship’s sensor package which would act like an early warning alarm should anyone approach the rear boarding hatch. The second thing Asajj did was to explore the ship’s cargo contents. It was reasonably stocked with food, water and fuel, the navigational computer contained plenty of hyperdrive coordinates.
In the main hold there were items of clothing, mostly Weequay in style and certainly too large for her. There was a blaster rifle and pistol set along with spares and holsters and slings, other utility-belt equipment. A small cache of multiple currencies. There was also a small plastoid case that contained all kinds of odds and ends, more tool chest than anything. Though there were numerous spare parts, they seemed to be entirely random in nature, weapon parts, ship spares, buckles, leather repair tools, a sewing kit, an old and empty bacta dispenser. And a cracked lightsaber hilt. She could easily imagine someone coming across the prize fabled weapon of a Jedi, yet being terrified to touch it due to the obvious damage, the blackened carbon scoring as well as the eight-centimetre-long crack, to the hilt. The prospect of touching the activator stud only to find yourself holding a forearm-length explosive, a split-second before it detonates would not induce confidence about trying to switch it on.
However, for Asajj that was not a problem. She knew that once the power cell was removed the weapon would be inert, and even in lightsabers, power cells were designed to be easily replaceable. A firm depression-twist of the pommel should be enough to unplug the cell. And then she would be able to open up the housing and have a look at the internal components. At the very least she would have her very own Kyber crystal. And from there she could build her own Jedi weapon from scratch.
<><><>
“That’s how I ended up with two lightsabers.” Ventress whispered to Ahsoka. “Though it was Count Dooku who really trained me on how to use them.”
“If you started out as a Padawan, how did you end up with that sleemo?”
“WelI, after ridding myself of the Weequay, I became the successful ruler of the Capital for quite some months. I eradicated most of the biggest criminal elements. I kept the smaller operations to a minimum, dealt with trouble makers and tried my best to keep the place running smoothly, the streets relatively safe. By then that the Darkside had taken hold of me. But I do not think I could have done what I did without the Darkside. I killed a lot of people. And I used threats, fear and terror to keep the criminal elements in line. However, I could still mostly see the difference between the criminals and innocent residents, and so I was able to vent my rages on those who deserved it, rather than randomly.”
“So, what happened?”
“I got greedy. Once I had calmed the Capital, I started looking at the second city. It was ruled by another warlord. Just like the whole of Rattatak. I decided I would go after each of the warlords, one-by-one, until I had pacified the entire planet. I had tasted power and wanted more.”
“Just like a Sith, huh?” Ahsoka said with a gently mocking smile.
“Indeed.” Ventress, said almost managing a smile of her own. “Osika Kirske, a big ugly Vollick, became my next target. But I underestimated him. I slipped into his domain to assassinate him but I was captured. Whether I was betrayed by someone from the capital, or I simply walked into a trap, I never found out. I found myself in his fighting pits. Forced to kill to survive. Weighed down by chains. Stripped naked. I was given weapons, either too heavy to pick up, or too small and light. Sometimes just a small rock or piece of rotten wood. Sometimes I would have one opponent, sometimes I would have ten. Or more.”

“They all knew my name, of course, but to humiliate me even further and sexualise me and amuse those who watched and bet on the fights, they would introduce me as “the Ass”. It had begun as a joke. Ass…ajj - and brought laughter and more than a few lewd responses. But soon enough I was just “The Ass” and nothing more. On rare occasions when I had to fight the most dangerous of opponents, a young Rancor, a pair of half-starved Wampas, I was given armour to wear but, as part of the joke my rear always remained naked and exposed. Kirske got many laughs out of that ongoing joke.”

“That’s disgraceful… Ventress, I… I can’t…” The Togruta, unable to find the words, gave up.

“Of course, rape was always part of the experience. Rape or the threat of it. I won more than I lost but whenever I lost, usually due to exhaustion and starvation, I was raped. It was all part of the entertainment. Eventually, I used it as an opportunity to gather my strength and use the Force to turn the tables. A lot of money was changing hands which meant the fights were never fair. That was how I got so strong in the Force. And the Darkside is so much easier, especially in that kind of environment. All you have is fear and pain and hatred. And I was having to use it every time I went up against someone in the arena. It was all I could do to survive. Most of the time I didn’t have the strength, I certainly never had enough to escape or kill my captors.”
“It sounds… horrible.” Ahsoka gasped, still all but lost for words.
“You Jedi have no idea how bad things can get in the dark places of this galaxy.” Ventress said.
Ahsoka didn’t offer a response. She had never imagined the assassin’s past could have been so horrendous. She had always just seen her as an evil separatist assassin and ally of the betrayer, Count Dooku.
“Sooner or later, I would have died there. Down in those pits. Mud, blood, shit, cum and offal. That was my life. Even with all my abilities, I wouldn’t have lasted a year. But Count Dooku appeared. I don’t know what he was doing there. Perhaps he enjoyed pit-fighting and the arena as much as any of them. Perhaps he had sensed my power from afar. And tracked me down.”
“He got you out?”
“He killed everyone but me. I was being gang raped into oblivion at the time, not the first occasion. But the Force showed me what he did. When I finally awoke, I was on his ship, slowly healing in a bacta tank. He would speak to me through the Force. Sometimes he tortured me, sometimes he praised me. It was always entirely at random. I suppose he was deepening my connection to the Darkside. But later on, once I was healed and free of the bacta, I learned he had all kinds of imaginative ways of pushing me further and further into the Darkside. I imagine many of the methods were specifically retained for female acolytes.”
“What do you mean?” Ahsoka asked.
Next: Chapter Two – Dooku.
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Asajj Ventress’ Sub-Dom Adventures.