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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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- 5
“You remember when your order first started to receive reports about Savage Oppress?”
“Wasn’t he your replacement? I was away at the time, training. But yes, I remember Anakin told me all about it.”
“I had chosen Oppress personally,” Ventress said, nodding. “Trained him in combat and the basics in the use of the lightsaber. He was also physically altered by the skills of my fellow Nightsister’s, his power increased tenfold… more. All to ensure he was accepted by Count Dooku, where he would be perfectly positioned at the Count’s side as our sleeper assassin. It all succeeded perfectly, I joined him on Dooku’s ship, which was in orbit around Toydaria. I activated Savage and together we attacked Dooku. But still he bested us. Then Oppress turned on me too and attacked us both, he always had been hard to control. Dooku escaped, I went after him, took him on alone. To my shame, he bested me yet again. I only just managed to escape.”
“I wouldn’t be ashamed.” Ahsoka said. “Dooku might be evil, and a traitor to the Jedi and the Republic, but he was one of the best Jedi Master’s in our entire history…
“Their history…” She corrected. “Even Master Windu, who was his pupil, would have been hard pressed to beat him.”
“Be that as it may, I ended up in an escape pod, hurtling toward Toydaria. Defeated once again, my plan to assassinate Count Dooku exposed, my mission an utter a failure.”
She was on the run. He had already tried to kill her once. Now she had attempted to return the favour, Count Dooku would be doubly motivated to finish her off. And it was all too obvious that she would be on Toydaria, assassin droids would be on their way already. Perhaps even the Count himself. She needed to get off world as quickly as possible. Ventress needed a ship as soon as possible.
She had no credits so she would have to steal something. However, stealing anything with commercial status, Separatist or Republic transports, she would be putting herself at risk of having her activity flagged up with Security services. Bringing attention to herself was to be absolutely avoided and, in wartime, stolen transport reports always went into bolo databases. Especially in wartime, stolen transports were all too often tracked down in case there was a ploy to them as fireships or suicide bombers. Therefore, Asajj had decided her best plan was to put herself in the sights of an unregistered or falsified registry pirate vessel and then to steal that. A ship like that would already be under the radar, they were always attracted to potential profit and easy pickings especially. Plus, they should be well outfitted with higher specification engines, defensive systems and weaponry.
Once her escape pod had landed in a canyon of Toydaria’s only inhabited moon. She had hiked across the barren rocky terrain to the nearest spaceport. It took her a day to locate a reasonably priced ex-interstellar taxi shuttle. The purchase was legal and above board, though the funds themselves had been obtained via casual muggings of a number of Toydarian citizens, traders, crime syndicate lackeys and pimps.
The only issue for the purchase of the taxi shuttle had been her own identity scans. She didn’t have the Separatist-supplied fake personal data any more than she had her own finances these days. Dooku had always covered all of her needs for whatever missions he had sent her on. Now that was all in the past. This time, rather than using her go-to violence to get what she wanted, she chose the more difficult method, in favour of keeping a low profile and securing a seller less likely to sell her out to the authorities.
The vendor of the small reused transport lot she had chosen had been a surprisingly tall Ugnaught. Youngish and as insular and casually belligerent a many of their species appeared to be. Still, he was a chatty little fellow with a gift for selling. And he came across as a stickler for the rules. Asajj knew she might have trouble when it came to filling in forms and providing proof of identity. Fortunately, he was ugly as a Hutt and came across as sexually repressed and lonely. So, trying not to think about how much time this had already taken, she played on it, to test his reaction. He practically dived head first into her playful waters, responding all too overtly to her gentle flattery and then, as she continued to test him and attempt to move things along more quickly, to her overt flirtation. When the issue of ID scans and licences came up, and the fact of her possessing nothing of the sort, she didn’t waste any time in trying to use other methods of persuasion. She just went for the kill.
“What can I do to make this transaction go through smoothly?” She asked.

She was trying to maintain her already tried patience. Ventress had been great with patience back when she had been under the tutelage of her Jedi master Ky Narec. But since his murder, it had been an artform she had all but lost.
“I suppose I could be… persuaded, to put the sale down under, for instance, the details of an already established client?”
“Or perhaps someone who backed out of a purchase at the last minute? That you might still have on file? A little passive revenge is always fun.”
“Yep, I could definitely be persuaded to do that. I have the perfect little nerf-herding cock-teaser in mind as a matter of fact…”
“And what exactly would it take for you to make those particular arrangements. Given that I am already giving you every Republic credit I possess?”
“Oh, there are other payment methods I’m willing to accept… if you’re willing to offer.”
“Such as?”
“You’re very attractive… for a human female.”
Asajj bridled at the miss-speciesism but she kept her mouth shut, trying to hold the inviting smile. Inviting smiles were not something she had ever really managed to master. She just hoped her efforts and the tightness of her clothes, which she had already observed him blatantly admiring would be enough to seal the deal.
“You have very nice lips, too.” He went on. “Very full and pillowy. I bet they would feel delightful, soft and warm and smooth... I bet they’d look great stretched around the bottom of my mating pole… I imagine you could suck-start a swoop bike, with that sweet mouth of yours.”
“I would be happy to oblige. Is there somewhere we could go?”
“How about on your knees under my desk? Little skinny thing like you should easily fit under my desk.”
“Just so we are both assured of the terms of this transaction... I’m to suck, and… I take it, swallow…?”
He nodded, grinning, while his hands began to unfasten the crotch of his trousers. It was already tented outwards and his eyes were gleaming, his mouth slack. He subconsciously licked his lips three or four times as he unfastened his trousers and then tugged them, along with his underwear, down to his ankles.
“You suck, crown to root mind you. And swallow. Once you’ve swallowed, and cleaned me up, well and proper, I’ll put all your purchase details, your ID scans, licences, background check, all that stuff under someone else’s file number. So that any checks the authorities make will show you as her.”

She gave a nod. He responded with his own nod, but his was a silent instruction for her to get down on the grimy floor of his office. Biting back a sigh, Asajj slid off the old and threadbare chair facing the vendor’s desk, which was set deliberately lower than his well elevated and plush-padded desk throne, and slid down to her knees. He indicated for Asajj to get under his desk, shifting his chair with an armrest control, to one side to make room for her before he manoeuvred it back into position, coffining her within the three sides of the cube that his desk now formed around her. Asajj bit back her rising anger, channelling it into her physicality as she had been taught and focussed her attention on the task at hand.
The Ugnaught’s ‘mating pole’ was surprisingly robust and over proportioned to the rest of him, as thick as her wrist and almost as long as her forearm, though it never managed to reach full stiffness no matter how fervently she tugged on the smooth, oily foreskin.
Asajj didn’t make too much of an effort. She was buying his short-lived loyalty not his lifelong adoration. She took the pointed crown into her mouth and worked it with her tongue, all over and around, wriggling her tongue tip across the veins and bulges of muscle while with one hand she worked on the root of the lengthy pole, jerking the soft outer skin, while her other hand cupped and gently squeezed the sack containing his testicles.
It took no time at all. She had even been considering reaching into his scrotum through the Force and applying a little additional pressure from within. However, before she had even decided to try out the technique, the Ugnaught tensed giving a surprising high-pitched porcine wheeze. His pole started to noticeably tense and palpitate under her hand and between her lips. A heartbeat later his seed, thin and warm and acidic, was pumping heartily into her mouth.
She chose not to swallow, and he surprised her by not taking offence. He even offered her a small waste basket so she could spit. He finally thanked her as he was tucking away his softened appendage.
Both of them having righted themselves, their clothing and the seating arrangements, the Ugnaught drew the client’s seat around, placing it beside his, around his side of the small desk allowing her an open view of his data display pad. Bringing up the file he was going to use as her surrogate purchaser, he copied over all the details of the purchase in her presence. Finalised it and then took the offered currency from her counting it twice over carefully. Finally, transaction completed, Asajj thanked him and left with data chit containing the purchased shuttle’s access codes as well as the ship’s user manual.
Once her purchase had been secured, the take-off completed and safely out of orbit of the Toydarian moon, Ventress had used the tiny amount of hyperspace fuel in the ship’s reserves to program a single jump into the dead space between the systems of Eriadu and Omwat. Once there she shut down all propulsions systems, lay back and relaxed. It was fine once she had discovered that the passenger seat was capable of being retracted into an almost flat, twenty-degree angle. It proved perfect for slouching, sleeping, resting, dozing and when she felt the need, meditating.
It actually took two full rotations before she attracted any kind of attention. And of course, it was the right kind of attention. Between those two particular systems, it would only ever be pirates.
Between her bouts of rest, sleep and meditation, Asajj had sabotaged the shuttle taxi herself, forcing its sublight engines to appear to have failed. Next, following standard procedure, she had sent out a general distress signal.
There wasn’t room for anything in the tiny shuttle. Being a taxi, the singular hold was taken up exclusively by passenger seating. Ventress had remained in the cockpit, mostly monitoring transceiver assembly traffic and rooting around in the half dozen small storage cabinets in between the cockpit and the hold.
The pirate ship finally appeared, as Ventress had been certain that, sooner or later, it would. She caught sight of its silhouette on the ident scanner first and did a double take. The shaping was reminiscent of an ancient Defender class Corvette. A Jedi transport that Asajj had seen in old holo-images of the Golden Age of the Order. This had to be one of those modern CEC Classics variations, based around the old Rendili Corporation’s Corvette. She had been vaguely aware that, at times classic designs were rereleased, though always with contemporary alterations and advancements, of course. They seemed to do it with everything, fashions, entertainments, blasters, vehicles, even politics.
The specs readout revealed it to be shorter and narrower than the old Defender class, no more than sixty metres in length and with only a single deck. Once it was close enough to see through the cockpit’s viewscreens, she shifted her attention to watch its approach through glasteel, at least until it came around to port and then the rear, and out of sight. The taxi’s galaxy standard airlock was aft, and set between the main thrust engines.
To prepare for the upcoming comm flash of the anticipated intercepting ship, Asajj had stripped off her upper garments and instead thrown on an ill-fitting rag she had found in one the taxi’s tiny cargo drawers. Unfurling the close hooded, long sleeved, thigh length tabard with its sash belt unsheathed her, revealing the sheer naked moonlight alabaster of her naked flesh. She stood, naked other than thigh-high leggings and her lightweight, heavy-duty boots. And then picked up the replacement top.
The left behind, slightly torn garment showed off more flesh than it concealed, which was exactly what she was going for. It might have once been some teenage sentient’s clubbing outfit, shiny, thin and metallic yet simultaneously silky and clingy. And stupendously revealing, even before it had been damaged. She could imagine the female of whatever species might have torn it or vomited down it and then discarded it on the floor of the taxi. On closer inspection it hadn’t shown any evidence of filth or bodily fluids, and it did not smell. Perhaps, it had been laundered. Perhaps the taxi-owner had intended to repair it for some unknown reason, only to shove it into a cargo compartment and then forget about it.
The tear at the front, revealed much of the hard corded muscles of her abdomen and a hint of the undercurve of one small perky breast, while the loosely hanging torn section covered her bare pubic mound though meagrely. A couple of loose threads were long enough to pass between the tops of her thighs then under and up between her buttocks. She attached those strands to a little tightening device at the rear of the waist length garment. The result offered the suggestion of deliberate exposure of her buttocks though with a half-hearted yet deliberate attempt in the pursuit of modesty. It was definitely the kind of garment that would prove neither shocking or encourage disapproval in dance clubs on any number of systems Ventress could think of. It might get the wearer noticed and doubtless lusted after, but that was absolutely the intent of the design, both originally and damaged as it was.
She played the scared damsel in distress over the comm, keeping her image torso length instead of the usual close up of her face. She performed her role more than adequately, softening and lightening her voice. And crying and shivering and begging for rescue, along with plenty of bounce-inducing physicality that the recipients on the pirate ship would not fail to notice. In returned, she was assured that she would be fine and that the males of the Mysidian Shrike would help her in every way they could.
Ventress felt as much as heard the Corvette connecting to her taxi, as the pair of docking rings locked together, followed by the interconnection of the docking clamps, the clunk of airtight seals and finally the hissing equalisation of pressure.
By the time the pirate ship’s outer airlock door cycled open, she was up out of her seat and standing in the cockpit’s doorway. Watching from the airlock across the passenger hold. She caught sight of silhouetted figures as her own inner door cycled open.
A bright light behind the figures bleached everything within its corona. The three silhouettes that stepped over the threshold and boarded her shuttle were that of a broad Rodian, a slender framed Aqualish and, essentially standing on his hands, a bulky Dug.
Asajj had already concealed her lightsabers behind a bulkhead panel inside the taxi’s airlock so she appeared to the newcomers as unarmed and defenceless, along with her short stature and slight figure, it all combined to help put the pirates at ease and feel in complete control. Of course, nothing was further from the truth.
Playing her part, she let out a horrified scream as they levelled their drawn blasters at her, immediately throwing her hands up in the air, sobbing. She dropped to her knees. The trio of alien pirates spread apart across the rear bulkhead of the taxi as, from behind them, a tall rangy figure with a tell-tale cranial horn and loose, looping robes stepped into that circular pool of near blinding light, developing a fourth silhouetted pirate. A Koorivar.
He stormed across the deck plates, coming to a halt half a metre from Ventress’ shivering, cowering form. He was hefting a rather bulky looking Monlitzer blaster, a cut down heavy carbine that was obviously Tibanna jacked.
Without a word, the Koorivar thrust the fat carbon-blackened muzzle in her face, she could smell the rank spice tinge of the uncleaned and badly maintained blaster in her sensitive nostrils. With his free hand, and a toothy snarl, he reached around the back of her neck and grabbed her by the collar, hauling her forward, right off balance. Ventress found herself violently dragged forward across the deck plates, first scrabbling forward on her hands and knees and then backwards on her bare ass cheeks, as she found it impossible to keep up with him.
Once she finally righted herself back onto her feet, Asajj was at the lip of her side of the locked together docking rings, she whined and pleaded, sobbing; making every effort at effectively playing her role as she was hauled across the dual threshold.
The pirate corvette’s interior appeared to be in surprisingly good condition, well maintained and though obviously lived in, practically pristine. The mauve bulkhead padding was clean and in one piece, with no visible tears or patches. It was the same with the gunmetal and pale blue deck and bulkhead plates, which gleamed with polish and appeared devoid of oil stains and dirt. There wasn’t even a ceiling bulb that was out or flickering.
Once escorted beyond the corvette’s airlock into a bare hexagonal chamber, Ventress had been held, stretched upright by the Rodian, his claw-like hands under her armpits while the Koorivar Captain, slowly and intimately strip-searched her. He snapped the thin strands between her buttocks and unceremoniously hauled off the metallic dance club garment. He stood back and looked over her nude moonlight body carefully, a crooked smile playing across his thin lips and his dark eyes blazing as he took in the taut pronounced flowing peaks and valleys of her smoothly toned torso, the peaks of her high, perky breasts topped by proud, stiff nipples. And the bare pubis with the delicate line of her smooth, pink-flushed vulva, stark against her unblemished skin.
There was nowhere for her to hide anything, but the pirate captain went through the motions all the same, or at least used the excuse of going through the motions to caress and fondle her lean, smooth body. He slid his hands across the undercurves of her breasts, lifted, looked beneath, then squeezed them, stroked them, pinching and tugging at her nipples. He strode around behind her and cupped her small, tight dancer’s buttocks, spread them, stroked probing fingers slowly up and down her ass cleavage.
Finally, he stuffed fingers into her vagina and probed her anus. It was supposedly to search for secreted contraband or valuables, but all he actually did was to voraciously fingerfuck her holes for a few teeth-grinding moments; excitedly adding a second and then a third finger into each, while Ventress blew calming breaths, bit back gasps and moans, and hissed sharp exhales at the discomfort of being digitally probed so fiercely and enthusiastically.
The irony was that, other than running his hands up and down the sinewy corded muscles of her thighs over the leggings, he completely ignored her from the crotch down, therefore he didn’t find the little switch-vibro in its boot compartment, the only weapon she actually did have on her person.
Once the shaming and uncomfortable ‘searches’ had satisfactorily revealed nothing but delightfully warm and tight intimate feminine flesh, the hand search had been backed up by a full body scan, for good measure. That had finally thrown up the vibro-blade and without the tiniest hint of embarrassment, the captain had fished it free of its boot sheath and pocketed it.
Ventress had been marched from the small hexagonal chamber, through its facing door and along the wide passageway beyond. She decided it must be the corvette’s central corridor. The passage gave way to the main hold, a largeish rectangular chamber which, along with most Corellian vessels of a certain scale, doubled as a central hub and entertainment area; with seating, refreshments and the ubiquitous Dejarik game table.
There were additional sealed chambers to starboard and port, no doubt sleeping quarters. There would also be the remainder of the usual standard features of this size of transport, supply storage holds, a fresher or two, perhaps a dedicated navigation room, a medical bay, repair bay, perhaps a droid hold.

The main boarding ramp lay in the centre of the central hold’s deck, framed on three sides by immaculate bright yellow warning paint. At the opposite end of the main hold stood five more sealed doors. One would most likely be the cockpit access, one probably the captain’s personal quarters, others perhaps dedicated communications or tactical rooms. These types of military corvettes tended to have fire control stations or maybe dorsal and ventral or starboard and port turrets, which might well account for two more of the facing doors.
The Korrivar captain pushed the just about naked Asajj on toward the left-of-centre of those five doors. He pressed the ‘open’ stud then shoved her across the threshold, following her inside and sealing the door behind him. She didn’t see what happened to the other three pirates.
She was right, it was a typical captain’s quarters; surprisingly spacious with its own fresher and head, a double width bunk, a desk console, even a midsize dining-cum-conference table.
Beyond the entryway, on the same bulkhead, there was a wall of weapons. It consisted of a multi-cultural selection of mêlée arms, each example highly polished and in mint condition. There were also scores of blasters, and even a scattering of old chemical-slug firers.
The bulkhead above the sleeping bunk appeared to be dedicated to a 2D art collection, both full colour and monochrome pieces of various sizes. The third bulkhead was taken up mostly with a viewport with the private console/desk directly beneath it. The fourth and final wall contained a living female Theelin.
The woman, approaching her middle years was plasma-chained in a slumped spread-eagle, apparently asleep or unconscious. Though no longer youthful, she remained attractive looking, curvaceous with pale pinkish skin, cranial spikes and sunburned orange hair. Her only clothing consisted of transparent gossamer wraps in cool pastel blue, that drooped loosely from small mock-electrum clasps at her shoulders and hips.
The captain paid the slave girl no mind. He turned to Ventress, blaster down at his hip yet still loosely covering her. His eyes swept up and down her practically nude body before settling on her tear-swollen eyes.
He grinned. It was a hungry and intensely predatory look, perhaps even possessive.
“Welcome woman. I’m Drow Gen, Captain of the Mysidian Shrike. We scanned your shuttle yet found little of value. Nothing actually. But females are always of value. Zabraks included, I see it now that I’ve seen you up close.
“Of course, now you have been saved from certain death by thirst or asphyxiation, you will need to pay for your rescue. We have compiled a list - fuel costs, the inherent danger that comes with responding to random distress signals. Which, incidentally, might well be the top cause of interstellar crime.”
“But surely, giving aid to unfortunate space-farers, where possible, is part of Galactic Republic Law.” Asajj offered.
“You do not see the danger though. Consider, some pirates set up a derelict, activate its distress beacon and then sit back and wait for some well-meaning space-farer to show up. Then, pow! Sprung trap, dead space-farers. Stolen ship, cargo, valuables. So, because we came here and rescued you, now you owe us for the time, trouble, effort and the potential danger. You understand, Zabrak female? And since neither you or your ship possesses anything of value, well… You’ve got no choice but to offer up yourself… Or I could just space you here and now and be on our way…?”
He stared at her, his eyes once again roaming her pale, slender nakedness. She stood with a hand over her pubic mound and an arm across her breasts, shivering and trying to look as terrified as some lowly damsel in distress might.
“So, what is it to be?” The Koorivar pressed.
Shivering, she lowered her head, eyes downcast toward the deck plates. She closed them; then she slowed her breathing as she surreptitiously reached out through the Force.
“I don’t want to be spaced, Captain. I’ll… I’ll do what you want.” Asajj whimpered, careful to make her distress catch in her throat.
“Good choice. You’re definitely a pretty flower, for that lean, toned, pale type. And there’s a surprising amount of interest in hairless females. Someone will pay well for you, I’m sure.”
Asajj let him drone on. Surreptitiously casting her eyes around the walls of the chamber. She idly reached out through the Force, probing numerous wall-mounted weapons of his display wall, feeling spoiled for choice. She decided to go for the tried and tested. Without moving, other than raising her eyes to gaze into his beady, now yellow-green pupils, she encircled his head and his shoulders through the Force. Invisible tendrils of power and influence, once she had him, however unawares, she started to rotate those tendrils, slowly, in opposite directions using them to grip his flesh as she began to twist.
He gasped, tried to pull himself free of the invisible grip as his upper body was frozen in place and his head began to rotate on his neck. Staring wide eyed at his new slave, he tried to move, tried to shout out, however, Ventress didn’t allow it.
“Thank you, Captain, for your ship.” She murmured softly.
With increasing desperation, he gasped and squealed, clawing at his throat as much as his Force restricted arms would allow him. Which was hardly at all. Asajj was enjoying the power of her control over this male. He thought he had been in control and she had proved him wrong. That strength gave her a quiver of elation that transferred itself to a warm and intense throbbing in her loins.
She casually used the Force to reach into the strained corded flesh of his neck and closed off the blood flow to his brain until he fainted. She let him drop.
Ventress walked over to the Theelin hanging on the wall. It felt as though she might be some living piece of art. After a quick examination of the small wall-mounted control box Asajj flicked a switch, deactivating the plasma manacles. They seemed to be combined with a small repulsor-lift device in the bulkhead that took any strain off the occupant’s limbs to avoid damaging ligaments and joints.
She let the Theelin woman free herself from her prison before she used the Force to elevate the pirate captain and put him in her place.
“Now you belong to me, woman.” She said casually.
Asajj stared down into the huge water-slick eyes of the kneeling Theelin woman who simply nodded. Ventress looked her up and down for a moment. The Theelin couldn’t hold her gaze for more than a second or two, before she lowered her eye to stare at Ventress’s boots.
“You’re obviously a slave. What are your duties?”
“Clean the ship each day, provide entertainment to the men.”
“Sexual entertainment?”
“Mostly. They all have their individual kinks.”
Ventress gave an absent nod and then stepped over to the console beneath the viewscreen. The captain showed such arrogance that his access had not even been identity protected. Ventress navigated the interface until she found the engineering section. And once she had access, it was only a couple of inputs through the system before she had the atmosphere vented from every chamber in the ship other than the captain’s quarters.
“Do not leave this cabin.” She casually mentioned, without looking back.
The reflection in the viewscreen showed that the Theelin hadn’t moved an inch, other than lifting her head to take in the rear view of Ventress. Sirens blared but with no air in any room but theirs there was nothing except for the thumps and bangs of the other pirates slamming their fists against the emergency sealed doors, then on the deck plates as each of them suffocated, trying in vain to suck in vacuum.
Afterwards, there was still adequate breathable atmosphere within the recycling system, though it remained stale, only containing enough breathable chemistry to allow for low-energy activities. Once she had completed her initial work on the corpses and searching through the cargo holds, Ventress would have to lock off as many interior chambers as she could and concentrate the remaining atmosphere inside essential locations.
Once the console display showed green atmospherics across the board, however pale the shade of green it was, she left the captain’s quarters. The Theelin still hadn’t moved.
The first stop was to return to the still docked taxi shuttle to retrieve her lightsabers from their airlock bulkhead hiding place. As she had thought, the radiation from coolant pipes and heat exhaust conduits so close to the airlock had proved sufficient to conceal the weapon’s power cells from the pirate’s scanners.
She also retrieved her hooded tabard, redressing in her familiar attire, before she returned to the corvette and released finally the docking rings, freeing the taxi and leaving it behind.
Next, Ventress took inventory of the ship’s systems and its present cargo, for the time being happy to read through cargo manifest lists. She could complete a manual search later at her leisure. Then she looked over the personal effects and belongings of its deceased crew. Finally, after searching each body, she used the Force to shift the corpses into the airlock and jettisoned them all.
There were plenty of weapons both on the men and in their chambers, plus more listed in the cargo holds; mostly mêlée and blasters. However, there was nothing that interested Ventress, nothing that could compare to the lightsabers she had been trained to use. There was some clothing, some non-Republic currency, fuel and spare parts, all of which could be exchanged should the need arise.
Having left the empty taxi, Ventress set up a series of hyperspace leaps. The corvette’s navi-computer could hold ten sets of jump coordinates in its temporary memory so she input ten jumps that took them over half of the outer and mid rim before the final jump that would take her to the Sullustan system where she would be able to procure another ship and finally take that into Dathomir space.
Dathomir.
It reminded her of Savage Oppress. And that reminder took her back there with all the intensity and intimacy of detail of a Force vision. She remembered the Nightbrother village. And Oppress’ cottage; every texture, the smell and the lighting of it.
That small mud and red-stone structure, separated into four equally sized rooms, sitting room, bedroom, fresher and food prep.
She found Oppress in the fresher, applying a salve to the bruises and lacerations she had inflicted during their previous training session. It had been three rotations since the ceremony of choosing and she had been working him to the point of exhaustion every day since. Last night she had almost brought him to tears.
She didn’t bother knocking. He belonged to her now. And everything that was his, was hers. She watched him from the open door in silence, looking at the wounds she had inflicted. The fresh ones bright and torrid and sore. Then there were those from previous days, yellow and black of the bruising only visible really as shiny abrasions, the tattooed skin swollen tight.
He had wanted to profess his dominance toward her, a typical male Zabrak fighting against the natural Matriarchal order of the Dathomiri tribe. Of course, physically he was stronger, but only the females had access to the magicks and that gave them dominance over their brethren.
Asajj had used the Force, as well as her own agility and lightness of foot to avoid his attacks, and then to punish him for his inevitable failings. And then to punish him again for his loss of temper and the wild, frantic uncontrolled technique that came along with it.
She dominated him, laughing as she used the Force to subdue him, to pin his arms to his sides, pinch his airway closed. She locked off his lungs stopping them from inflating, threatening his life. Though for some reason she mostly enjoyed making him slap himself across the face. It was a childish, silly thing but it enraged him more than any other assault and that only made Ventress laugh.
Now, looking at the lean, proud musculature of his naked frame, she wanted to pressure him into a whole other form of dominant-versus-submissive conflict.
She slipped back from the doorway to the fresher and instead entered his sleeping chamber, peeling off her cowled tabard, leggings and boots. She propped herself, naked on the edge of his bed, lithe and sinuous and gleaming with lust fuelled perspiration. She leaned back, shoulders and bare skull against the wall, long legs crossed, hands casual in her lap.
When he walked into the room, he instantly became a statue, carved with an expression of shock, fear and, she was gratified to see, lust. The fear/lust combination was standard fare for the male Zabrak of Dathomir. All the brothers existed in perpetual states of fear and desire for the Nightsisters. Their leaders, their owners, their mistresses. Administrators of both pain and pleasure for the subservient males.
It was not difficult to cultivate a sense of lust for this young tattooed male, though soft and weak, compared to Ventress, he was still physically attractive, with a slender though well-formed musculature, a somewhat burly handsomeness to his angular face, though it was a kind of ‘cave-male’ attractiveness. He was also confident in his physicality, even though Ventress had seen to defeat after defeat and almost insurmountable degrees of pain in the aftermath, so far had had taken the lessons on board and showed improvement with each failure. It provided Oppress a certain salivation of desire, that confidence to continue, to maintain the desire to fight, and to learn and to improve, even eventually to best her. Not that he ever could.
She wondered how he would fare once the Nightsister magicks Mother Talzin was busy preparing had been administered. How would he look and act then? The Mother had implied numerous improvements, both physical and psychological. Oppress broke Ventress’ spell with a fear-stammered utterance.
“Mistress, I… I didn’t….”
“Be silent, whelp.” She sighed, then switched over to a sultry and dangerous smirk. “Come here… You are to pleasure me, Savage… However, I see fit.”
His expression faded to a grim, lock-jawed look of acceptance; all emotion pushed down. A static front erected. His body seemed to deflated before her, shoulders drooping, fists relaxing. His member mostly yellow ink against mostly black ink didn’t quite shrivel, but it certainly wasn’t showing signs of excitement at the prospect of laying with his mistress. Asajj grinned.
“You are to please me exclusively.” She said. “Any physical pleasure you yourself might feel is to be dismissed. Do you understand? It is irrelevant and not to be acknowledged, responded to or paid any heed. Do you understand Savage?”
He gave a curt nod, but it was clear that he didn’t. That was fine, she would enjoy putting him in his place.
Looking perturbed and frankly afraid, the tall, leanly muscled Zabrak joined Asajj on his narrow bed. Lying alongside her on one side, his hard, lean body pressed against her smaller though no less powerful curves.
He ran a hand down her smooth supple flesh, from her slender ribs down her miniscule waist to the swell of her hip and then the supple slope of her long, well-muscled thigh. The skin of his hand was all hard and calloused, which only seemed to emphasise the soft smoothness of her own flesh. Asajj almost decided to punish him for his unbidden caress, however the gentleness of his touch stayed her hand. Instead, she smiled.
“How about, to begin with, we enjoy a little romance.” She cooed. “Kiss me, Savage.”
Their lips met, the introduction oddly gentle and sensuous. It occurred to Asajj that this young male would have literally no experience with mating females. Sure, once he was inside her the animalistic urges would instinctively kick in. But sensual touch, and the ability to please a female would be alien to him. It would afford her lots of opportunities to punish him through his ignorance.
Their lips parted, hers giving permission and instruction to his. Her tongue slid into his hot mouth. A quick tease. She rolled her lips over her teeth and slid her slack mouth forward, gently sucking his bottom lip in between hers. Then she unleashed her teeth and bit cruelly into his lip. The Zabrak howled at the sudden violence and intense and unexpected lance of hot pain. He cursed, yanking back and putting his fingers to his lip. He found blood on the swelling band of plump tattooed flesh.
She cuffed him on the side of the head. It wasn’t a powerful hit and without the influence of the Force. However, either taken unawares or deliberately taking the hint, he fell down flat onto the rolls-of-fabric mattress. She plopped herself down across his naked hips.
Almost immediately that pain-fuelled anger fed his all too obvious reaction and without thinking he lashed out at her. Asajj anticipating such a response, instantly punched out with a forearm, intercepting his blurring fist and deflecting it clear. She simultaneously used the distraction to get her other hand down beneath her taut buttocks and curled her fist around his surprisingly half erected phallus. And once gripped she squeezed. Hard.
This time the howl was as much infuriated growl as it was expression of pain. While at the same time the shaft rapidly hardened, like steel, in her grasp. Asajj idly wondered if he was, on some level, grateful that it was his dick she was torturing, rather than his scrotum.
He countered in kind, reaching up with both his calloused hands and clamped down hard onto the soft flesh of her breasts. He squeezed, crushing the perky orbs with fingers and palms. Asajj hissed at the pain and tightened her grip on his now fully stiffened erection, digging her nails in.
Oppress followed her lead, fighting back. He reached for her stiffened nipples, trapping them between his fingers. Pinching hard, he twisted and pulled at the firm, rosy buds, while Ventress grunted and snarled at the increased pain.
However, in amongst the pain there was also a little soupçon heat of pleasure and it only egged her onward with her cock torture. She started to twist her hand, nails ensuring secure purchase. Oppress writhed under her. His lips pulled back from his gums, teeth champed, eyes squeezed shut, he was breathless in his rising agony. His back arched up off the mattress, almost bucking her off him completely. She hung on, laughing despite his continuing attempts to twist and pull her nipples right off her tits.
“Mistress! Please!”
In response she released her talon-claw grip of his erection. He responded immediately by releasing her nipples. Asajj moaned in mock disappointment as he ended the tit torture. Instead, staring down into his tear-streaked eyes, once again she reached down for his cock, though this time through the Force. She could feel the texture of the flesh, the heartbeat-thrum of its blood flow, the radiating waves of body heat, all pushing back against the enclosing fist of the Force. The power of it gave her an entirely new kind of thrill.
She used her Force grip to manipulate his hardness, pressing the shaft down against his belly and holding him in place while she settled atop him, allowing her pleasure slick vulva to splay apart across the pleasantly warm texture of his hardness, with that central corded bulge running along the underside. Ventress couldn’t help but rock her hips back and forth, her own free-flow of juices lubricating their deliciously conjoined flesh.
She could feel that, through her splayed vaginal entrance and her continued Force grasp, their interaction was bringing encouraging bars of ferrocrete tightness into his shaft. She pressed down into the mattress with her knees, lifting her hips to elevate herself. His erection lifted with her, the lubricant practically an adhesive, anointing his shaft as it rose, maintaining contact with her sticky labia, his crown finding and spreading her inner lips and exposing her weeping entrance. Though expected, she hadn’t needed to use the Force to position his cock properly, it was all natural, nothing more than automated bodily responses. However, she did use the Force to hold him steady, and tight, as she began to slide herself down onto him, taking his hot, pulsing member inside her tight, oven-hot sheath.
Her own expressions of pleasure were perfectly reflected in the black and yellow tattooed visage of her Zabrak slave. He lay there beneath her, trembling, hands fisted in the bedding, teeth once again gnashed together behind drawn back lips, as a little trembling grumble sounded in the back of his throat. Even so she could well see that the fear and trepidation of her continued Force grip around his shaft was remained in his eyes and the beads of sweat warping the tattooed colour on his brow. Asajj enjoyed the duality she saw in his face, the fear-pleasure mix. Where, for her it was all pleasure, physical fun, power, dominance, control and deep, loin-throbbing ardour infusing everything else.
They both let out long guttural groans of joy as she felt his member press against her cervix, her walls stretched by his girth while his hard, lean muscles pressed up against her soft smooth flesh.
Of course, that pleasure quickly overcame the residual fear and pain for Oppress, which wasn’t right, as far as Ventress was concerned. So, as she started to rock and gyrate her hips, she leaned forward and using both hands, clamped his nose and mouth shut. Leaning into her task and started to ride his thick, pulsating shaft with rapidly increasing vigour.
The result was almost instantaneous, his cock stretched her out inside, increased friction, increased force, increased heat and the pleasure that those elements encouraged. At the same time his eyes bulged, and his body, trapped beneath hers, immediately began to struggle. He thrashed about wildly, pulling at her wrists until she used the Force to pin his arms to the bedding up over his head. Still, he continued fighting, for freedom, to breathe. Fighting, essentially, for survival, all throughout that frantic and aggressive act of procreation.
Ventress only released her seal over his nose and mouth when she could feel that euphoric hot liquid sensation spreading throughout her loins, her climax rising rapidly, threatening to overwhelm her. It conjured an image of plasma that had been over-ionised expanding within a vessel that could no longer contain its explosive power.
She threw her arms back, stretching herself, arching back and writhing atop him, barely aware of his great desperate inhales due to the overall quivering and jolting that both of their bodies were engulfed in. Oppress regained the vestige of his lifeforce, sucking in atmosphere that, like a chemical high, revitalised and heightened every nerve-ending and pleasure centre in his body. He gasped, cried out.
Asajj proved louder still as she climaxed, one of the most robust and explosive orgasms of her life. Arching backward, her spine twisting, she screamed out, thrashing violently atop the Zabrak male’s body, her internal muscles throttling the big engorged erection lodged up inside her, while her vagina gushed out heady sprays of her orgasming juices.
Ventress shook herself free of the manacles of the past and walked back into the captain’s quarters, now claimed as her own. The main issue that remained on board the corvette was that of the Theelin. Having been a slave herself, Ventress realised that she was, unusually, feeling a touch of compassion for the female. Though it was admittedly a tiny candle flame inside the massive cavern of oppressive Dark side blackness. She supposed it was the reason she hadn’t just killed the alien female and spaced her along with the corpses of the pirates.
The slave was now standing, though she hadn’t moved from the spot in the room where she had been kneeling. Head bowed; hands clasped in the shadow of her bare pubic mound. The moment the door swished across its frame, she dropped back to her knees, her chin touching her chest. Of course, Asajj and her quick reactions allowed her to note the fact that the slave had been standing up. Not that she cared in the slightest.
The pirate captain, still secured to the wall, was awake again. Asajj assumed he had been trying to order, threaten and cajole his ex-slave to release him from his bondage. The fear flashed into his face as he saw Ventress enter, his eyes darting between the Zabrak and the Theelin. Caught in the act.
Ventress unhooked one of her lightsabers, pointed the polished emitter right at his face and activated it, drawing the blade with precision. The blood red corona kissed his epidermis, drawing a whisp of smoke from a sliver of burned skin on the tip of his nose, and a terrified whimpering cry. However, he was well secured and couldn’t even back away. She stared into his bulging eyes, her grip on the weapon rock solid. Finally, one finger slid smoothly to the activator stud, her touch sheathing the blade.
“Do you have a name, Theelin?” She asked. “Actually, never mind. You do not matter.”
She kept her eyes focussed on the pirate captain while she placed her weapon back on its belt clip purely by touch. Finally, she turned her attention to the other woman. She was perhaps a decade older than Ventress, mature, curvaceous and attractive. Two decades earlier she might have been capable of winning attractiveness contests on her home world.
“Against my better judgement, I am going to offer you a choice.” She said. “A quick death and a grave amongst the stars. Or, you keep your head down and your mouth shut, continue whatever cleaning duties I might require. And when this ship reaches its destination, it will become yours to do with as you wish.”
“I… I don’t know what to say…”
“When that happens, will go our separate ways. You will remember nothing of my presence, at all. You will never mention seeing me or speaking to me, for the rest of your days. Do you understand, woman?”
“I do, mistress.” The Theelin gasped. “What’s to become of him?”
“That is not your concern. Leave now and go about your usual duties.”
<><><>
Asajj took a sonic shower in the private fresher that was attached to the captain’s quarters. She enjoyed the bodily tingles as she felt the caress of the sonic pulses against her naked skin. But she knew that the tingles had nothing to do with the shower at all. It was purely the side effect of power. She was Queen, here. Empress. The lives of those survivors exclusively in her hands. It didn’t matter that they only numbered two. It was intoxicating, erotic.
She slid a finger between the pleasantly pulsing lips of her vulva, feeling the warmth and the slick dampness there. Though she didn’t want to simply stand there and pleasure herself. She reached out through the Force to sense those other two lifeforms on board her ship. The Theelin was busy in the main hold, Asajj’s Force attuned senses detected the sounds and smells of the ship, the woman at work, and the distinct aromatics of polish and a well used rag. The Force even offered a vision of the Theelin applying polish by hand to bulkhead insulation pads, smearing and rubbing it in with a soft brush then buffing it into a shine with the rag.
The captain was still chained to her wall in the next room. He was limp, asleep, his breathing slow and deep. She could feel heat and cold in his muscles, little stabs of pain and tightness here and there, inside the flesh, fresh and fully healed wounds, hard rough scar tissue fighting for control with the softer subtle living flesh around it. She reached through the Force and caressed him, curious, her touch somewhere between probing and playful. He was actually tight and muscular, a little belly fat but with hard corded muscle beneath. She slid her connection down between his legs, found his member. Immediately, within a second of her initial touch, the shaft started to harden, thickening substantially though without much lengthening. It felt essentially the same as a Zabrak’s or Human’s shaft, though this one was short yet thick. Still, Asajj found it intriguing. She could have fun with her prisoner. A little torture for him and hopefully plenty of pleasure for her. All on pain of death. However, that would be for later. First food and relaxation, then, to pass the time, she would indulge in her fun.
After her shower Asajj returned to the search for valuables. This time she rummaged, cursorily, through each cargo container. Among the bins she found items of clothing, either stolen new or perhaps stripped from prisoners. Within there was a gossamer silk hooded robe with half-length sleeves. Though of a different colour and fabric, it felt to Ventress like an erotic parody of a Jedi robe, its pale cream fabric was thin, shimmered under the ship’s lights, it was clingy and offered a lush cool satin feel against her naked flesh. Other than a few little cashes of Republic credits and an interesting bottle of alcohol, it was the only thing of interest she claimed.
She wore the robe while sat in the main hold, being served a simple though tasty meal by the Theelin. She even allowed the woman to sit and eat beside her, which she did. However, though she ate as though famished, she was far to terrified of Ventress to look into her eyes, let alone speak to her. Asajj didn’t care, she had nothing to say to her anyway. She had presented her with a good meal which was all Asajj had demanded of her. She dismissed her afterwards, allowing her free choice of the available sleeping chambers. The woman seemed shocked that she wouldn’t be expected to provide entertainment, a little lost even, but then as Asajj dismissed her, she hurried to the closest sleeping chamber door and vanished behind it.
Ventress meditated alone in the cockpit, partially to help with digestion after her meal. And then she took some time to train in both empty hand and then lightsaber forms. Finally, she gave in, once she was dripping with sweat and aching all over, her body warm yet her muscles and joints well loosened, and fully satisfied with her training time.
Following another refreshing shower, she collected the big jug of the Revnog she had spied among the supplies in the number three hold. In actual fact it was nothing like true Revnog, Ventress thought it was perhaps some kind of methyl-based drink, laced with spice and thickened with Bantha milk-fat for its pale blue colour and sweet complimentary aroma and then sold as Revnog.
The strength of the methyl content practically blew the top off her smooth pale pate. And she thoroughly enjoyed her first few sips.
Within a half cycle, something had sparked within her, the same spark she had felt during her initial sonic shower. And it was just what Asajj felt like now. She wanted the pleasure of lust and of power. But she would not sate herself with her own fingers, nor on some lowly slave girl. No, she would take and subdue and then make use of someone stronger than her, at least physically. That was the real test and that was the real source of power - to subjugate someone stronger than her who, at least, had the potential capability to make her their slave.
Of course, the only contender on the ship was the captain. And though he wasn’t much of a contender, she hurried into her quarters all the same. By the time she was through the door, she had reached through the Force to shut off the plasma chains. As the door had slid shut and sealed at her back, the freed Koorivar had been tossed casually across the room onto the double-width bunk, on his back.
The fear in his bulging eyes was a gleaming intensity, reflecting everything going on in his mind. She watched him, read him like a holo-story. All the possibilities of freedom - the door, the weapons along the bulkhead. His weapons. And Asajj. A small, slender female humanoid. Trained in the Jedi arts perhaps, but still just a woman. He was bigger and stronger than her, but there would be no keeping her unless he could keep her subdued or unconscious. It would be better to simply kill her. If he could overpower her, he would have as good a chance as any. That was what Ventress read in his eyes, in his demeanour. He would have a rude awakening the second he tried anything. Which was precisely what she needed from him.
She crossed the room, overaccentuating her movements, her hips, the flow of her lithe, lissom limbs projected by the sway of the clinging robe. Of course, he was unable to take his eyes off her. She halted at the side of the bunk, standing there to stare down at him. She could almost smell the musk of his combative positions of lust and fear, a desire to take her and a desire to escape her. She smiled, a little half-side coy smile that quickly blossomed into a toothy grin.
“Strip, pirate captain. Or I will do it for you… with my lightsaber. And as drunk as I am, I’m almost certain you will lose body parts.”
He stared at her for a moment, aghast. Perhaps he was disbelieving the turn of events he had found himself in since responding to her distress call. And now was attempting to come to terms with his new reality. Asajj supposed that his usual forms of daily pressure came from the possibility of pursuit by system authorities, or perhaps other pirate ships. Maybe worries that the risk taken in capturing and subduing a mark might not balance well against the profitability of the outcome. She watched him. It wasn’t until her smile had faded that his hands slowly reached for the fastenings of his clothes.
He wasn’t the worst specimen of masculinity she had ever come across. Far from the best but not the worst. He never left the mattress, either lying on his back or kneeling up to loosen fastenings or peel off garments. Asajj stood stock still deliberately unnerving him, not blinking while he was looking her way. But still his eyes roved her clinging robe, almost acutely revealing the nakedness beneath and his member couldn’t help but to respond, thickening and hardening before her unrelenting gaze. Even so, the fear was plain in his eyes. For Ventress the dichotomy of lust and fear was on some level flattering, she could terrify him and make him hard at the same time. In her experience, not an easy accomplishment.
With slow and lithe movements, deliberately sensual, she slipped out of the robe, gave his bulging eyes ample opportunity to take in her rampant nakedness. And then, with that same slow sensuality, she climbed onto the bed and positioned herself atop him. She slid her legs across his chest so she was astride his torso. Looking down across the subtle bulge of her hairless pubis, she stared down at him. His eyes roved her, the lust overtaking the fear, at least for the moment.
“Eat me.” She said.
And then she whipped herself around, her thighs spread outside of his shoulders facing the length of his naked body, and pressed her hips down over his face, the under curves of her pert and steel hard buttocks settling across his brow.
“Make it pleasurable and you will receive pleasure in return.” She gave a pause. “And I may not kill you.”
She could feel the subtle caress of his breath playing in rhythmic beats across her desire swollen labia. She could feel the tiny trickles of her fluid moving inside her and emerging, seeping across her lips. She wondered if he had received any droplets himself yet. She could picture him opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue to catch the first drip of her juice; savouring its sharp-sweet tang on the flat of his tongue, perhaps letting out a little groan of pleasure at the taste of her. Then reality took over as he capitulated, his lips brushing hers, his tongue emerging slowly slicking a path between her labia, tasting and teasing her. Perhaps not to the level of her fantasy, but certainly pleasant enough.
Asajj felt her juices flowing more freely as little pulses of pleasure started to tingle and dart through her loins. Her nipples had grown so hard they were aching. She sighed as his tongue began to flick and probe in earnest. It was a long tongue too, thin with a rounded tip, perfect for this particular activity.
The thrumming palpitations of pleasure that sang within her began to burn, rising in intensity, The muscles in her thighs responded, pulsing in reply to her pleasure. Her juices trickled and she could feel, just like her earlier fantasy, his tongue scooping and lapping, collecting, tasting, swallowing.
Using both hands to cup and squeeze her breasts, pinching and pulling at her nipples, Asajj had only one way to pleasure the male. She had no interest in giving him pleasure but still she reached out through the Force and took hold of his half hard phallus.

Immediately, the act of grasping his reproductive member through the Force took her back to her final time of enjoying such carnality with Savage Oppress.
It had taken place during the night after he had been augmented with Mother Talzin’s Nightsister magicks, lying there on the stone altar huge and powerful. Yet hardly aware. He measured over a head taller and was bulging, full of muscle, which oddly maintained a degree of proportion, though his thickly muscular arms appeared longer and his tree trunk legs perhaps a little shorter. The Mother had bid Asajj to acquaint herself with her new apprentice and then all the Nightsisters had left the two of them alone.
Savage Oppress was not only different in his body, but immediately she had sensed a change to his demeanour. Before, though a confident, thoughtful and empathic man with at least a hint of the combat prowess waiting to be honed and developed, he had been subservient, almost submissive, a definitely fearful male. Now he was almost feral, all but devoid of emotions and certainly without empathy. Physically, he appeared to be almost immeasurably strong and under that power the Force bubbled within him, not altogether strong but it was close to the surface, ever available. Easy. That would make him quick and agile at the very least. While his physicality would give him endurance. All she needed to do now was to test and if necessary, reinforce his obedience to her, to reassert his submissiveness to his mistresses.
All that power and aggression, the fear turned to rage that filled him, would need to be controlled, put in its place. If he felt that he could best his superior he would no doubt try to put her down and subdue her. Just like a Sith. So, she would have to remind him that he was beneath her, her servant, her tool. She would have to enforce his subservience through the usual methods of pain and humiliation. And yet, why not have a little fun while doing so?
All that newly promoted aggression, the new physical attributes, the size and strength and muscle mass, he would absolutely want to be dominant. There was that inherent masculinity, long since subjugated in the males of Dathomir by the Force-superior gifts of the females. However, all knew that the maleness, that strength, aggression and desire to dominate, was ever present. It was never possible to diminish completely. And in Savage Oppress, here and now, it was utterly unleashed. She could see almost it emanating from him like an aura, could almost smell it.
Lying there, he eyed her, staring, unblinking. The power of lust and aggression stamping down the remnant of fear of her from that previous life. And she could read it in him, through the Force, that prior sorry existence he no longer considered anything more than a squalid dream.
His phallus was already burgeoning as his eyes took in her lithe feminine body, her curves, the high pointed breasts, her lean muscles and the shadow at the crux of her smooth, shapely thighs. That part of her, more than any other, called to him, inviting, promising untold pleasures. A half, feral grin played across his tattooed lips and he slid to the edge of the altar, sitting up and then hopping down to his feet. He was far from light footed, the impact of bare feet on the time smoothed rock of the floor sent a minor shockwave through Ventress’s own feet.
Foreplay came through combat. Playful yet raw. He pawed at her, trying to catch and subdue her so that he could pin her down and possess her in the most animalistic way. She, careful with her judgement, dodged aside and countered with pain inducing strikes, numbing, searing, temporarily debilitating.
However, she soon realised that she needed to use the Force to press through the armour of his musculature. It was as if his nerve endings lay deeper beneath his dermal tissue than expected and therefore, she had to hit harder than expected to make him feel it. Still, it had the desired outcome. He started to grunt and wince at each impact. And he started to grow more and more angry, and unbalanced and savage. Again and again, she professed her dominance and superiority over him through both inflicting pain and never allowing him to get more than a light brushing touch of her own lithe, desire-inciting body.
She had to be careful of course. Physically, he was far more powerful than her and allowing him to get one of those enraged strikes to connect would do more damage than merely a bruise or abrasion. She relied on the Force and her own training, to read his intention and the distances and keep herself one step ahead of him.
It was the most violent foreplay. Though he had already showed signs of surprising speed and dexterity, he tended to lumber about the chamber like a drunken Yuzzum. And it was simple for Asajj to ride on him, leap onto his back to bite his ear or cheek, rake her nails into his flesh or, when he reached up to grab her, drive one heel into his pulsing engorged phallus. Then, laughing as he staggered and bellowed, she would leap back and dodge out of the way of his pain and rage fuelled attempts at vengeance.
She wanted him to keep trying so on a couple of occasions she allowed him to get a hit on her. One to her shoulder which numbed her arm for a few seconds and was shockingly painful but not the kind of injury that would cause lasting debilitation. Once she allowed him to get his hands around one of her thighs. She used the sudden and enticing purchase of her sweat slick, smooth flesh to turn his rage back to erotic desire, more a refocussing than tamping down of his passions.
He put her in a bear hug, pressing his face into her breasts and his other arm pulling her breathlessly tight against his pillar-like muscular bulk. His hand squeezed her thigh, fingers stretching up for the promise held between her slick vulva, while his other hand clawed at her taut buttocks.
Ventress used the Force to free herself from his assailing, eroticised grasp. She fought back her own mix of pain and eroticism as he sadistically groped her. She focussed herself inside, drew on the Force and then reached through it and clamped shut his windpipe.
He struggled for a while, struggled against her attack, against his rising need to release her, struggled to supress the urge to tear her apart or to press her glorious naked flesh even more tightly against his own invigorated nude body. However, the need for survival defeated his desire to violently procreate and somehow, releasing a frustrated hoarse snarl, he tossed her aside. Asajj flew metres across the chamber, landing with feline grace in a combat crouch, her breasts shaking atop her chest before they regained their natural position. It was an erotic image that even gasping for breath and down on his hands and knees, Oppress didn’t fail to take note of.
Grinning, Asajj released her Force choke and rose lithely to her feet again. She gave him a chance, standing there a beautiful marble statue while he groaned and panted, desperately dragging atmosphere back into his lungs. However, she didn’t give him too much respite. She wanted to ensure he remained frightened, and enraged and sexually sparking and not to simply give in.
Abruptly, the game changed, becoming an overt flirtation as Asajj slowly began to strip off her cowled and long-sleeved torso glove - terminating in its short skirt, along with the fabric harness over it, her thigh-high leggings and boots. And her fingerless gauntlets.
Rising from the chamber’s worn stone and blown sand floor, Oppress came at her, his erect, jutting shaft swaying heavily like a pointing limb. She ignored his approach, continuing to undress deliberately slowly.
She allowed him to get within grabbing range and then, laughing, used the Force to shove him back onto his ass. He didn’t give in. With a grunt of frustration, he snapped back to his feet and came at her again. She Force pushed him. He didn’t give in. Obstinately trying again and again as her increasing nudity drove him to distraction. And he came at her over and over to get his hands on her body, an adamant lust blindness controlling him.
Asajj’s response was the same. The Force push. Each time a little harder, further away, more violent. She slammed him against the rock wall, she slammed him against the stone altar, she threw him right over the altar. He came up from behind it, spitting blood, his tattooed face a mask of rage. Asajj laughed. And though there was still lust, physical desire, the rage and frustration had taken over and he outright attacked her, trying to get his hands to her throat.
She knew how strong he was from when he had first awoken on the altar, surrounded by Mother Talzin and Nightsisters. Asajj had stepped forward into the light and he had instantly grabbed her by the throat, his huge powerful hand had started to crush her windpipe with that new preternatural strength.
This time she didn’t give him a chance. She dodged and blocked and parried, skipped out of range, cartwheeled by him, slapped him, unbalanced him, then shoved him onto his face. He spat out sand and blood and came at her again. She used the Force, augmenting each time she inflicted pain or humiliation with its power. He looked weakened, panting, his earlier rage and frustration tempered now with fatigue and defeat.
He actually gave in, at least verbally. Dropping himself heavily onto the ground a metre from her well planted feet, he let out an exhausted huff, his head bowed, panting to try and draw energising atmosphere into his lungs. Laughing Asajj reached out again and Force choked him, cutting off the already short supply of atmosphere.
She held it while he thrashed, fell onto his back. He flopped around. Clawed at his throat. Continuing her own amusement, she also focussed the Force around his cock, keeping him fully hard and thickly engorged. His eyes stared up at her, bulging and blood shot. She released her Force choke. She stood over his gasping prone form, her legs spread wide in conquest, breasts jutting proudly, hands on her hips, a statue of feminine victory.
“You win!” He gasped finally. “I cannot defeat you! Do with me as you will. I deserve no mercy.”
She didn’t fall for it, but she was naked, practically overwhelmed by sexually excitement and she wanted him badly; wanted that aggression and wanted to pummel it, to pleasure herself at his expense. Of course, she didn’t trust him and she was sure to maintain a readiness to snatch up the Force to her defence should he turn on her.
She took a step closer then lowered herself onto his lap. He awkwardly pulled himself up so they were chest to chest, noses a hairsbreadth apart, his thickly muscled legs crossed beneath her taut buttocks. His thick, jutting phallus trapped snuggly between their sweat-slick bellies. Smiling, she wrapped her arms around him, fingers of one hand caressing the unnaturally long Zabrak cranial horns encircling his skull, her other hand across his broad shoulders, though barely.
She pressed her lips to his, her tongue tasting his blood, savouring it. His hands carefully encircled her waist, one reaching down almost experimentally to grasp her taut buttocks. The other hand caressed her lithe back, up and down the arch of her spine from the nape of her neck to the tops of her hard, smooth ass cheeks.
From that moment, the mutual violence had become entirely sexual. Carnal fuel for their combined libidos. Their first kiss was neither gentle nor delicate. It was voracious, predatory, as though each was attempting to consume the other. There was as much biting and tugging as dancing tongues and caress of wide spread lip on lip.
In moments, Oppress had attempted to take control. Breaking their ravenous kiss, he caught her up with both hands around Ventress’ tiny waist. He lifted her from his lap and upended her, using his gargantuan strength to put her upside down with her legs in the air and her head down in his lap. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her flesh tight against his, her breasts crushed against the bulging rocks of his abdominals, the fiery tips of her engorged nipples pressing into him like hot pokers. She crossed her legs around his neck, a loose diamond shaped snare.
Instead of fighting back Asajj saw an opportunity. She scissored her legs around his broad muscular neck, pulling his face into her sizzling pussy while she supported herself with elbows and forearms on his thighs and allowed the obviously anticipated taking of his pulsing thickness into her mouth. However, it was only for a score of heartbeats. Once she was secure and he was lapping gloriously between the swollen lips of her labia, she reasserted her dominance. Firstly, she used her teeth on his hot silken foreskin, nipping at his flesh, making him twitch and hiss at the pleasure-pain-fear discomfort. And then she tightened her grip on his neck with her crossed legs tensing thigh and calf muscles while she pressured his while body inexorably backward. Pushing on his thighs, she used her miniscule weight to slowly overbalance him, forcing him backward until he had to lay back against the stone flooring or risk injuring his already flexing spine.
Once beneath her, the two of them shifted from vertical to horizontal, Asajj lifted herself off his cock, leaving behind glistening tendrils of saliva and a hardness that was overtly swollen and visibly throbbing. It was quite the thing to look down on the evidence of such a creature’s blatant lust for her body. Perhaps even flattering in other circumstances.
She sat on his face with her calves locked behind his neck, allowing her to tighten those muscles and pull him even more firmly against her slick and trembling vulva, Asajj was more than a little gratified to feel his tongue continuing in its pleasure-giving duty. She didn’t have to torture him into submission after all. Still, decided to give him a teaser all the same.
Enveloping the thick shaft of his erection and the heavy full scrotum beneath it in a fist of the Force, she gave him a little gentle squeeze, and then a slightly harder squeeze, which soon became a full-on threatening mangle to which his entire body tensed beneath her and he issued a scared, submissive whimpering groan. She reached behind her and wrapped a fist around on of his wicked, barb-like horns, gave his head a shake to urge him to deeper oral attentiveness. And only when she felt him obey - gorging herself on the pleasure that resulted, suffusing her quivering loins, did she relinquish the majority of her Force grip.
For a while she Force-stroked and caressed his balls playfully while keeping a fist-tight invisible grasp on the heavy reproductive shaft. Her other hand continued to use that cranial horn as a controlling handle, pulling him back and forth, up and down, deeper, against her hot, vibrating pussy.
Once he was reassured that she wasn’t about to Force choke his cock and balls, Oppress reached up and took a good two-handed grip of her taut, warrior’s buttocks. He squeezed hard, kneading firmly, working at the soft flesh and hard muscle beneath. For Ventress, it felt right on the see-saw edge of pleasure and pain and she gasped and rocked her hips in response; enjoying it, yet ready to punish him if he lost control.
There was an unexpected side-effect of using her legs to lock his face hard up against her pussy. Those elongated curved cranial horns were digging into her skin, scratching and then cutting her, creating deliciously masochistic stinging sensations, a raw itch that somehow merged with the pulsing, throbbing, increasing pleasure emanating from her core.
Unexpectedly, it only seemed to make her more eroticised. She squirmed and moaned as she tightened her legs around him. Enjoying the lap of his tongue and the stroke of his lips, the exhale of his laboured breath, lacing her most sensitive flesh with hot caresses, and the itching pain of those horns scratching and cutting into her. It all combined to elevate those building, throbbing pulses of pleasure, rising rapidly in intensity and urgency. The promise of a climatic ecstasy big enough to melt her insides felt suddenly imminent.
Still, on some level, he would no doubt want to push back, to counter her dominance with a low level insubordination. She felt him work his jaw, angling his lips so that they closed over the hood of her clitoris and started to suck. The pressure, the heat of his flesh and occasional stabs against the little bud with the rough flat of his tongue sent jolts of harsh pleasure into her loins. At the same time, he released the grasp on her buttocks and reached around her hips and up her ribcage to her high, perky breasts. He caressed them, gently at first, stroking their softness as though marvelling, cupping and softly squeezing, before his fingers and thumbs sought out the hard tips of her rosy nipples. Once located, he savaged them, pinching and pulling them out away from the orbs of her tits, digging his nails in fiercely.
For a moment, Asajj whimpered and winced at the torturous attention his hands plied to her breasts. But all too soon there was a wash of masochistic heat and pleasure. It expanded out of the pain he was inflicting and added to the pleasure pulsing throughout her loins. The pulsing expanded explosively and like a flood of hot fluid, it blossomed, filling her body and touching her mind, sparking a sensual climax, that completely overwhelmed her.
She arched back, muscles tensing, head thrown back. And she let out a series of gasping moans, sexual ecstasy expressed as sound. It was a short-lived experience, a full and powerful orgasm, quick to surge and equally quick to subside.
Once the blossoming pleasure reduced to a less overwhelming degree, like a boiling broth taken off the heat, Ventress allowed herself to relax, slackening her locked legs and allowing the tension out of her spine and all of her muscles.
However, probably enjoying the small degree of domination or vengeance, Oppress had not lessened his assault on her breasts and nipples, and the raw pain now lost all of its masochistic delight. So, she counter attacked. This time she didn’t even use the Force. Now hissing and whimpering at his brutalising touch, she leaned forward until she could get her hands onto his cock and balls. She cupped his testicles in one palm while encircling the sabre-hilt girth of his shaft. He groaned in pleasure, perhaps thinking she was about to reciprocate and give him the orgasm he had given her. Instead, she squeezed, hard. With both hands, even pressing her clipped nails into his pliant, silky flesh.
He howled and jolted. Immediately releasing her breasts. Despite his capitulation, she kept up her manual savagery. He put his hands on her back and tried to shove he off him. Doubling her up until her bald head was down between his knees. She kept up her squeezing. Increasingly desperate, he snatched her up around the waist and lifted her off him. But that didn’t remove her hands from his genitals.
And then she struck him with the Force, flattening him on his back and pinning him there, as though a wall had fallen on him.
With the male supine and held there, Asajj finally let go of his testicles. He let out a long wavering moan of relief. It seemed to Ventress that this huge, powerful muscular warrior was close to sobbing out real tears.
Feeling invigorated and more powerful than any muscular male warrior, she crouched over his hips facing him and lowered herself finally onto his still hard cock. Sheathing him fully inside her slick sheath and then she began using her internal muscles to massage his engorged and no doubt sore member.
Keeping Oppress pinned to the ground with the Force, Asajj began to ride him, explicitly slow, teasing, gorging herself purely on the physical sensations she felt at the point their bodies merged. The heat and hardness of him, the ridges and bulges of muscle and vein of the silken surface of that thick, sulphurous stalagmite. The way its solid girth stretched her own silken inner folds.
She moaned at the feel of her nerve endings tickled and tantalised, and once again it ignited that bloom of rapidly increasing pleasure. A detonation in slow motion, fuelled purely by sensual pleasure.
She leaned forward, putting a hand on the centre of his chest, feeling the hearty rapid beat of that solid muscle behind his ribs. And with her other hand she slapped him across the face, again and again, enraging him even while the Force kept him physically in check. She slapped him over and over as hard as she could. More than once her open hand caught one of the barbs of pointed bone that emerged from his skin around his brow, it tore her skin and made blood ooze and trickle from her, smearing her flesh while simultaneously anointing his, leaving behind blood was well as the welts of impact bruising. She liked it, leaving her mark on him, tattooing his already tribal-marred flesh with her blood and her violence. A sign of her dominance, of her mastery over this bigger, stronger and, physically, more powerful male.
“You are to obey your mistress, Savage Oppress. Take my every command to heart. I will ride you just like this until I reach my limit. And I warn you, monster… If you reach climax before I do… you will be punished, severely.”
He just stared up at her, eyes ablaze with a mixture of pleasure and hatred. Eventually his chin gave a little dip of assent. Or perhaps merely of understanding.
Remembering her own sexual torture at the hands of Dooku and the mysterious old man she had been lent out to that one time, Ventress wished she had been taught how to conduct that Darkside plasma that she had seen both those two old men conjure, and used on her. And not for the first time. It would be a sweet torture to use the conjured lightning on someone else. She could easily picture the effect of its touch on him, how big and hard it would make his cock strain when those glowing arcs of electricity licked at his foreskin and all the thickly bulging muscles beneath it. How high his screams would escalate when she touched that plasma to his big, heavy balls. She could almost hear those desperate screams. It made her salivate. It was a shame she had never been taught the skill by her Sith Lord master.
She rode him hard, aggressive and with passion, bucking and bouncing and gyrating. While he lay supine and compliant beneath her, too afraid to move and unable to enjoy himself. At least at the start. On a couple of occasions, his shaft began to soften within her and she responded by Force choking the root of his shaft, trapping the blood inside the muscles of his phallus, forcing them to tighten and expand and harden again.
She gave a little in return, grabbing both his hands and pressing them to her breasts. Through the subsequent dark eyed expression on her sweat-gleaming, passion filled face, asserted how much or how little of his own passion he was allowed to express. He gently caressed her breasts, cupping, caressing, fondling with surprising care and grace, the slightly oily texture of his tattoo laden flesh against her smooth, sweat coated orbs, provided a pleasurable and pliant interaction as he stroked and squeezed. And his assault on her nipples this time around was much more pleasant for her, light tugging and rolling, then gentle stroking with the pads of his thumbs rather than the outright brutalising of earlier. All in all, his reciprocal attention on her breasts infused more and more chemical joy into Asajj’s nicely building pleasure centre. She moaned and gasped at his touch, pumping his hardness more rapidly and deeply inside her, climbing that hot liquid ascent toward another assuredly large ecstatic peak.
However, before her orgasm hit that high atmosphere summit, he suddenly and unexpectedly made his retaliatory counter attack.
For a while it became a battle of wills. Oppress using his strength and aggression to momentarily overpower the smaller and lighter Ventress. One moment he was performing intensely enjoyable things to her nipples with the fingers of both hands, and the next he had her about the throat squeezing hard, locking off her airway, threatening to collapse her windpipe.
Taking advantage of her shock, panic and fear he pushed himself up right, then shoved her hard down onto her back until he lay atop her, still buried to the root inside her. His cock now harder and thicker than ever with that newly dominant position. Keeping both hands around her long, slender throat, to distract and confuse her, keeping her from her focus, he started to fuck her hard, using a flurry of superlative and quick full depth thrusts.
His power fucking worked, making Asajj see stars. While the lack of oxygen made the sensations darting through her body a thousand times more acute. Especially through her violently shuddering breasts reflected the aggression meted out onto her body. There was also a sensory connection to the environment surrounding them, the cool breezes sweeping through the chamber, the currents of wind – some heated by candles, or their own body heat, all played across the smooth flesh of her shuddering breasts and her roaring, stinging hard nipples. It was almost as intense against the smooth taut skin of her wide spread legs, pinned up in the air, swinging back and forth due to the frantic pummelling of his hips slamming against her inner thighs. And then there was the gargantuan sensual mêlée of what was happening in and around her pummelled pussy.
It was overwhelming for Asajj for far too long, a confusing mishmash of fear, pain, ambiguous sensual heat and unadulterated erotic pleasure. She was so confused by it and so intently focussed on loosening his grip of her throat that she allowed it to go on for a few minutes, for far too long. Yet, by then it wasn’t quite so ambiguous. Dizziness kept her from thinking straight, her head felt light, her nerves were going haywire and every sensation felt overpowered, uncontrolled.
Her orgasm struck and for a moment she experienced a sensation she related to being strapped to the nose of a starfighter just as it entered hyperspace, she was grabbed and launched right out of her body into a weightless, timeless state of euphoria. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing in all the galaxy except for Asajj enraptured by a cloud of sheer unrelenting sexual joy.
As that mindless shockwave of sensual bliss began to fade, the Zabrak woman was left with a shock of reality. Savage Oppress, powerful, animalistic was hammering into her, on top, using her for his pleasure, hands around her throat, squeezing the life out of her; in command, dominant, victimising her.
She was instantly taken back to the slave pit gangrapes, to Dooku’s training methods and to the old man in the shadowy room; powerless, fighting to survive, using her sexuality every bit as much as her Jedi and combat training.
She snapped back needing more than anything to take back control. She reached up and dug her nails into his forearms but other than a grit toothed he didn’t respond. She gritted her own teeth, tensing her neck muscles to give her larynx room to work, sucking in a lungful of atmosphere. With the fuel shooting through her body from her finally filled lungs, Ventress galvanised herself and then finally reached out through the Force.
She turned his assault back on him, once again Force choking him, sapping him of his prodigious strength while, following the weakening of his grip on her own bruised throat, she began to take back control of the situation.
However, she underestimated Oppress’s recently benefacted strength and resilience. He released her throat, one hand automatically reaching toward his own restricted airway. However, the other formed a fist and punched Ventress hard in the stomach, the ribs beneath one breast, the centre of her sternum.
She felt the sharp searing pain of a rib crack, felt the pummelled dull burn of her bruised stomach muscles. Her lungs had been punched clear of Dathomir’s stark, hot air and she gasped, desperately trying once again to breathe.
In the meantime, he caught her unawares with a harsh open-handed slap across her face, jarring her jaw. It almost felt dislocated. He followed it with specifically sadistic slaps to her breasts. Lost in her torture, Asajj flopped, Force choke and momentum vanished.
Oppress took quick advantage even during his own struggles, he grabbed her shoulders and turned her, rolling her into a prone position, face down, sucking in sand and grit. She felt one hand, as though a speeder had been parked on top of her, pressing hard into the middle of her back, pinning her, while his other hand spread her tight buttocks apart. Long, strong fingers splaying the inner curves of her smooth cheeks. Next came the hot, hard lump of the rounded tip of his phallus, positioned and then asserting harsh, urgent pressure against her exposed anus.
He was obviously doing all he could to break her concentration, to sap any further attempts at a Force-assisted assault on his throat, all while continuing to regain his own sexual pleasure from her use. But Asajj only found herself more determined than ever to beat him down.
She regained her focus, reasserting Force power to his larynx, immediately pushing beyond the level that would crush the windpipe of most sentients. She felt him weaken, though he was still fighting hard. She used all her remaining physical strength to disentangle them, rolling over violently, somehow finding the Force-assistance to push him off her back and then crawling free.
She staggered backward, pulling herself out of his physical range. And then turned back to face him. Standing, though she needed to use the side of the altar to support her as she reached out, Asajj focused the Force more acutely. She visualised the make up of his throat, the arteries, the airway, the tube leading to his stomach, and she closed them all off. Throttling him and cutting off all fuel to his brain.
Within seconds he had collapsed, barely able to lift a hand, a weakened gesture of submission. Asajj held her Force choke for another second and then released him. She gave him a moment, clutching at his skull, sucking atmosphere into his laboured, burning lungs, all but curled up on the ground like a new born.
Defeat assured, she turned her attention and her Force manipulation to punishment. Halfway crushing his testicles while he squealed hoarsely, writhing and croaking pleas for mercy to his mistress.
Eventually she took pity, or more accurately his subjugation and pain had her fully eroticised again and she wanted to fuck more than punish. She released her savage Force-grip on his scrotum and turned it on his phallus. Her savage invisible squeezing soon had him hard as ferrocrete and overtly bloated, while he continued to writhe on his back, groaning in pain. Over and over, she made him profess his subservience to her, to repeat her mastery over him, that he was her slave, her weapon, and her instrument of pleasure. She expanded her Force influence, pinning him on his back and sitting on that fat, bloated, ruddy member, taking him deep inside her and working that shaft with her tight grasping but well-lubricated pussy. Finally, as he continued to profession servility, now without her bidding, Ventress lost herself in her biggest orgasm of her life.
<><><>
Asajj’s orgasm had been so intense and overwhelming that she hadn’t even heard the proximity alarm, or noted the thrums and vibrations of the docking latches sliding together and locking into position. But the emergency siren of her ship’s outer airlock access hatch being bypassed and forced open, snapped her out of her blissful reverie.
She didn’t even acknowledge the pirate captain gasping and moaning beneath her, nor the rank aroma of his sweat. Even while she had ridden the terrified yet horny pirate, she had been lost, back in the past with the newly rebuilt Savage Oppress. And now she was on a ship under attack and she was compromised in more ways than one.
She threw herself back from the bunk and rocketed across the room, snatching up her harness and lightsabers as she flew, feet barely touching the deck. The dizzying din of the alarm, implied that she wouldn’t have the time to dress properly. The cloth belt, harness-cum-loincloth, was all she had time to grab as she headed for the door and then the ceiling hatch that she assumed led to the repair-access ductwork in the narrow crawlspace above the main hold. There would no doubt be sealed access doors and perhaps forcefields keeping the internal sections of the corvette separate but she had a couple of slicing jacks in hidden pockets in her sash-harness. It was fortunate too. She usually kept those kinds of items in her utility boots.
She dove head first through the doorframe, timing its automatic opening with her passage across the threshold. Inside the main chamber she landed on her hands, using the Force to maintain her balance and precision as she pushed off from the deck plates, sending herself straight as a blaster bolt up to the access panel in the ceiling. She tucked and rolled as she slid through the opened hatch, catching the panel’s lip with her fingertips and slapping it back into position. Using the Force again to slow and ease her motion, she touched down onto the reinforced skeletal framework of the substructure. She landed silently, on her tiptoes in a crouch, perfectly balanced.
Ventress estimated it would take no more than a minute or two for the breachers, whoever they were, to advance into the main hold beneath her hiding place. She took the time to don her makeshift coverings. She tugged the fabric harness this way and that, but positioning for comfort. Not concerned that it didn’t accomplish much in the way of covering her nude body.
The weight of her paired lightsabers was both comfortable and reassuring for her and she caressed the plastoid and metal hilts as she gazed down through the grille to the rear of the hold, overlooking the passageway leading forward from the rear of the ship. Awaiting the invaders, wondering who they were.
There was another realisation that came to her only belatedly. The corvette must already have dropped out of hyperspace or the boarding craft would not have been able to dock at all. So, had she been discovered by accident or somehow, had her trajectory been assessed and the assaulters had been lying in wait for her? She supposed it didn’t matter unless they weren’t the only group after her. If it was the Republic, there could be ships dotted around across half the galaxy in search of her. And probably was. They had her classed as a war criminal for some reason. But surely assassination was nothing more than another weapon of warfare?
Then the solid, powerful, oppressive, weight of the Dark side hit her like a speeder into a ferrocrete wall. She felt herself shiver with sudden anxiety. It felt just like being in the presence of Count Dooku. That same dark sense of brutal, enraged, barely contained power. Power that she had already failed to overcome once before. Power that she had only been able to escape from by the skin of her teeth the last time. It rankled her that she had been unable to defeat him. The man who had betrayed her, and left her to die.
However, after she had pushed aside her own fear of that power, Asajj was able to focus on its tyrannical essence and she realised it was not Dooku at all. It was not as deep a sense of the Dark side, and possessed neither the experience or internal self-control of her former master. It was fresh and raw and barely held in check. Whoever this was, it was not the Republic. And she was not familiar with them and she knew through her Dark side education that there were very few true trained Dark siders in the galaxy.
Leading that Dark side shadow, indistinct and fractured multiple light sources spearheaded the invaders. The Dark sider was keeping to the rear. Ventress reached out through the Force and heard six distinct heartbeats. Each of them somehow identical even though their pace and timing were different. There was also the subdued low tone clatter of armour plating striking and brushing against armour plate and body glove, and deck plates. And she knew who she was up against at least she knew the six-strong spearhead.
The smell of temper-honed composite plastoid armour caught in her nostrils, along with the thinner fume of ionised Tibanna and blaster lubricant. And sweat and excitement and fear. All so familiar and heartening. These represented a familiar enemy, easy to deal with, nothing to be afraid of. She had dispatched scores, even hundreds, of them throughout the war thus far. Though admittedly a meagre number in the last few cycles. Clones.
However. What were they doing in the company of one so obviously in the grasp of the Dark side of the Force? She kept a grip on her desire to drop down and face them in the entrance to the main hold. Instead, she took in their movements. That and the style of their plain, white-over-black lightweight alloy armour. She recognised these Clones as first-generation. Though very few had survived this far into the Clone Wars. Perhaps it was just the armour? Though she noted the identical heartbeats, and that each man, as he stepped into sight, was the same height and build, each moved the same way as the others, and when they did communicate, they spoke with the same voice, accent, intonation.
Definitely Clones beneath the armour. One wore a plain black pauldron signifying rank and he carried a DC-15 carbine and a sidearm holstered on his utility belt. The other five all carried the long DC-15 rifle. They spread across the hold in a loose arc, the flankers checking shadows and corners. While, remaining behind and out of Asajj’s view was the elusive Dark sider.
“Nothing yet, General.” Reported the officer.
He had turned and addressed his rear, standing to attention and snapping out his report, once the men had supposedly secured the main hold. A heavily accented somewhat reptilian sounding response issued from behind them. It brought to Asajj’s mind the Trandoshan, or the Weequay, or perhaps even the Hassk.
She carefully, silently shifted her position to get a better angle on that rear passageway. And at last caught a glimpse of an earthen robed and cowled figure, tall, lean and statuesque. He stood there, folded arms lost in the robe’s deep sleeves, face hidden in shadow cast by the deep, low set hood. It was no Sith, from the clothing style and colouring it appeared to be a Jedi. It absolutely made sense. Ventress had read reports of Jedi corrupted to the Dark side by the horrors, frustrations and sheer grief that came through this war. This was more than likely one such example.
While the Clones, either under orders or simply agreeing with the Jedi’s desire for carnage and combat, must have joined him. Maybe they were the last of his personal battalion, and last few Clones still standing and ultimately loyal to their General, willing to follow him wherever he took them. Even into the afterlife, if Clones even believed in such things.
“Search the rest of the ship. I sense her. The little Sith monster is here somewhere. Find her, trap her. But leave her to me. If there’s anything left when I’m finished with her, you boys can have your fun.”
“Right away, General.” The Clone officer said, snapping out another precise salute. “You heard him men, let’s find this enemy female. Time for payback.”
“At the very least” Asajj thought, “This is going to be interesting.” She watched in silence as the six men spread out once again, heading off to search out different parts of the ship. It was practically an insult. These Clones wouldn’t be able to handle her, not even with all six of them together covering each other in a circle. Spreading throughout the ship and losing sight of each other was just plain dumb. Didn’t they know who they were dealing with? Perhaps they weren’t looking for her at all. Then again, how many other female Dark siders were active in the galaxy?
Well, if they insisted on underestimating her, she would make them pay for it. Maintaining her silent movements above their oblivious heads, she turned around and headed toward the first sealed crawlspace hatch.
The little preprogrammed key slid into the access panel and sliced the lock instantly, the door swished and Asajj stepped through. It was cramped and the ceiling was lower still, forcing her to squat down but also to bend her head low. However, years of training, precise balance and assistance through the Force allowed her to maintain her fast, silent movement while keeping her body loose, light and, at least temporarily, devoid of discomfort.
Of course, noise could still cause her a problem, at least to the fun she was envisioning. Too much noise would bring them all on her at once. That wasn’t a concern. She could kill them all in the space of a single heartbeat. But that would be over too quickly and would spoil her planned fun.
She followed the progress of two of the Clones into the starboard side of the corvette. The pursuit required two more sliced access panels. One through, however, she found herself above the perfect location, a long though narrow starboard cargo hold. There wasn’t a whole lot in there. She had already gone through the crates and the bulkhead mounted storage lockers. It was where she had found that bottle of Revnog.
She hurried across the ceiling panels to the rearmost starboard corner and then popped the grille and dropped into the shadows above a couple of stacked crates. Then came the old trick, reaching through the Force to manipulate the lid of a storage bin in the opposite corner of the room. It separated the overconfident Clones, both men believing only one of them would be required to check on the clattering noise in the corner. The other continued his progress through the waist high maze of boxes and crates and the wide open space of echo-heavy deck plates between.

There was nothing she could do about the snap-hiss of her lightsaber blade being drawn but either it would take time for the survivor to report in the death of his comrade or the Clones would be too arrogant to call in the disturbance. Asajj had often found Clones to be foolishly arrogant in their combat abilities. She supposed it depended on how well trained their Jedi General had them. Surely the Jedi would have a better idea of how dangerous their opponent truly was and would have instructed his men suitably. She would have to see.
She gripped her saber hilt lightly in one hand but kept the blade sheathed. The ambidextrousness that her own Jedi Master had infused was definitely a huge advantage. She could easily cross the hilt from one hand to the other out of sight of her opponent and surprise him with a sword cut from the opposite side he had been expecting. However, that might be a technique for another time. This was all about delaying until the last possible moment.
She saw the gleam of white armour from halfway across the room, despite the low level illumination in the cargo hold, and watched his approach from the shadows. She had chosen her hiding place well, the casual position of what cargo there was in the hold essentially led her quarry straight to her. Hers was one of the few areas of deep shadow large enough to conceal an average sentient. The Clone didn’t have any kind of glow-lamp or directional light source and their helmet HUDs were not equipped with heat sourcing or electrical current sensors. She had often questioned the intelligence of the design of the Clone armour. The plastoid being blaster resistant rather than blaster proof, and the helmets not having half of the available augmentations that enabled other military types major advantages. They didn’t even have toxin filters in their respirators. It was almost as though the Republic didn’t want to make things too easy for their own troopers. She supposed it was all about credits. What would be the point of defending the Republic of it ended up financially bankrupt as a result? And, of course, all those greedy politicians would no longer able to line their own pockets.
Hefting his blaster rifle, which was really too long and cumbersome for such tight, enclosed spaces, the Clone shuffled closer and closer, inching hesitantly toward her shadowy hiding spot, the pitch black between the right-angled corner of the bulkhead and the stacked crates casually shoved into the same corner but with an angle of dormant space left, to be filled with oppressive blackness. As well as an ex-Sith assassin.
Asajj held her breath and used the Force to slow her metabolics to dampen her presence so that, to anyone approaching, any search would not reveal her presence through micromovements, or tiny sounds that came through breathing, or the creak and swish of her clothing.
All too soon, she could see her hiding place reflected in the T-visor of his Clone’s helmet and Asajj was grinning on the inside with excitement. He just had to step within one metre of her and he would be done. And then he did just that. The moment she judged his proximity, she swung upward with the hilt of her lightsaber, thumbing the activator stud as the hilt swept upwards in a diagonal arc. The blade drew forth in mid swing taking its full metre length and bisecting the Clone from hip to opposite shoulder. She sheathed the blade instantly then leaped forward over the Clone’s head, even as the two halves of the body began to slide apart, before tumbling to the deck plates. Though echoey there had been more than enough noise. The snap hiss, the grunt of the dying man and the clatter of crumpled corpse halves, blaster steel and plastoid armour, to alert the other Republic trooper.
The second Clone died just as quickly, though not at the end of Ventress’s lightsaber. This time she leaped over the second trooper’s head, grabbing the lip of his helmet in both hands then summersaulting over him, both hands keeping control of the edge of his helmet. She dropped him hard onto the deck, arched over backward, back of the head leading the way. The nape of his neck, over-extended and lying across the rear of his yanked backward helmet, snapped clean through on impact with the floorplates. The rest of his dead body crumpling in its wake.
She was about to leap up into the ceiling’s maintenance space again but the noise must have been heard in the main hold and the cargo space’s inner entrance swished open allowing another two Clones to race in, blasters already levelled.
She wheeled around to face them, wily hands grasping and unclipping lightsabers, drawing both blades, all in the same fluid feminine movement. Blaster bolts tore through the recycled atmosphere of the hold only to be easily deflected by the blades of Ventress’s fountaining crimson plasma swords. The bolts struck each partner’s armour clean through the centre mass, burning murderous tunnels through the chests of the two Clones.
By the time their bodies had struck the deck, Asajj had already sheathed her blades and vanished back into the ceiling crawlspace.
She didn’t bother dropping into the passenger sleeping quarters where she traced the fifth Clone trooper. She just touched the emitter plate to the grille directly above his head and drew one blade again, it drilled a hole through the ceiling, through the crown of the Clone’s helmet and a hand’s breadth into his brain, destroying the cerebellum.
She dropped down into the chamber, landing light footed on the plastoid chest plate of the dead Clones. It weas the Theelin’s chosen sleeping chamber and the shapely woman sat on her bunk, single sheet pulled up to her throat, pressed into the bulkhead staring with bulging eyes toward Ventress. The Zabrak, put a finger to her lips, thrust a ‘stay put’ gesture at the woman and then left the sleeping chamber by its actual door.
Out in the main hold, she could hear the Jedi grumbling to himself to the rear of the ship and through she kept an eye on that direction, she also kept clear of the passageway leading to him. Still, she found it more than a little amusing to listen to his echoing complaints.
“Damned Clones. I told them she was mine. ‘Just find her and flush her out’ I said. But no. They have to take her on themselves. They are arrogant fools. Well, if I hear one more blaster bolt fired, I’m going to go and kill them myself and then she’ll have to come out.
“Then that little monster can die, though for her I’ll make sure it’s slow and painful. I’ll slice pieces off her. Slowly. I won’t make it easy for her. Not after what she did to my master.”
So that was it. She had assassinated a few Jedi during the war. A handful. Often incidentally, as part of a battle or mission. She had fought Skywalker to a standstill, giving him a facial scar that apparently, he had decided to keep and wear like a badge of honour. She had faced Kenobi too and even the great Master Yoda at one point and still found herself wondering how she had survived that encounter.
Surprisingly her master had not even punished her for that defeat. She had presumed she would be on the receiving end of a particularly brutal torture. However, he had simply stared her own with a chamber-filling oppressive stare and then had turned with a swirl of his cloak and strode out of the room. Of course, she had been locked in her chamber without food for three days. But that was nothing to her. She trained and meditated, nourishing herself on the water that was dispensed. He had let her out on the fourth day, fed her and then gave her a battalion of battle droids and sent her back to the frontline.
Once again concealed in the shadows of the main hold, Asajj reached out through the Force and located the final Clone. He was at the front of the ship in the corridor leading to the bridge. She knew the Clones and their armaments intimately, so it wasn’t hard to feel out the small explosive device each Clone had fixed to the rear of their utility belts. She activated its detonation timer.
It took the Clone two seconds to realise what the strange beeping sound was, another second to reach around and detach it from its housing. And then, as he was panicking trying to deactivate the device, the final two seconds counted down. He almost managed a scream of terror but the bomb exploded in his hands and spread him - ruptured armour, burned flesh and shredded innards all over the bulkheads, floor and ceiling of the corridor. Unfortunately, it also ruptured the bulkheads themselves and the wiring and atmospheric distribution. The shock slammed through deck plates. However, even though the whole ship shook, its internal dampers fighting the effect, both the Force user’s sense of balance remained immune.
The Jedi’s tranquillity abruptly snapped. Announcing his approach with an animalistic snarl, he launched himself out of his stoic rage and unleashed his rage, lashing out with the deep emerald blade of his lightsaber.
Asajj performed an airborne horizontal cartwheel over his head, while drawing both her lightsabers. She landed behind him on her feet, one blade across herself in a guard the other crossing it offensively pointing toward the corrupted Jedi. The Jedi used his halted momentum and spun around to face the Zabrak assassin. His cowled robe to peeled away and he allowed it to spin off onto the floor toward the very corner Ventress had emerged from. He snarled, his dark eyes flashing with cold liquid hate. He was a feral looking and battle-scarred Elom. He snarled out his wrath, a weighty guttural roar. Asajj grinned.
In the split second he stood in front of her, before launching forward with his next flurry of attacks, Ventress took in the rare Jedi Elom. The usual thick, oily fur and robust layer of fat had been slimmed down to a Wookiee-like lean frame of tight muscle and flowing groomed fur. The former no doubt honed through the usual Jedi training, the latter kept orderly, trimmed close and brushed so it gleamed like Fathier hair and showed off the interlacing muscles beneath. He wore barely more than Asajj, a thin silken Jedi tabard with a sash around his waist and a standard leather belt over it.
His black eyes at the terminus of a hammerhead ocular bar across the top of his brow flashed, the lids were drawn low to protect it from the adversely harsh artificial lighting in the corvette. While the facial tusks, not unlike those of the Harch, spread apart in the Elom equivalent of drawn-back lips.
The hilt of his lightsaber was half a metre in length and styled very much like Kenobi’s newer design. As she raised her left blade to parry his shimmering emerald lance, Asajj found herself wondering if those two Knights had some relationship. Perhaps this Elom had been a student of Kenobi’s even though as far as she knew, he had taken Skywalker as his sole Padawan essentially at the same moment he had been knighted.
And then all conscious thoughts were pushed aside as a need to battle another lightsaber wielder was fully upon Ventress.
He instigated a ferocious but elementary series of cut, parry, thrust and counter, which Asajj opposed with her own very basic motions. She didn’t even have to focus, it was all the years of training, muscle memory and a little Force influence that enabled her. It felt like a sparring session rather than a dual to the death.
She watched his face. Even though there wasn’t the natural humanoid familiarity of emotional expression, she could see it in him as easily as if he was verbalising every thought and intention. The utterly drained sense of selflessness, that belied his Jedi garb. The selfish desires fully overtaken, unconcern for everything other than what he exclusively wanted. And the dark reflections of all the normal sensations - the desire for justice corrupted into a need for revenge. It was exclusively about him and his wants and no part of anyone else ever came into the equation. It was the noticeable and predictable corruption of the Dark side.
He skipped forward and flicked the tip of his blade across her collar bone, though there was no pain of its touch on her flesh. She wondered if the attack had been deliberately sexual or just a badly ranged stroke and fortunate for her. The front of her harness-cum-loincloth had fallen to her waist, exposing her collar, one high firm breast and her tight flowing abdominals. The corrupt Jedi gave a laugh and slashed at her again. This time, unconcerned for her partial nudity, Ventress used both her blades in combination to trap the Elom’s sword swing. She immediately asserted pressure so that the bones and ligaments in his forelimb locked up and then she rolled her blades over, forcing his grip to loosen and whipping the over long hilt right out of his hand.
He danced back out of the follow up thrust and slash from Asajj and retrieved his sword through the Force, just in time to draw the blade and block Ventress’s next double attack. His block wasn’t fully successful however and she repaid his ruining of her garment with a long smoking singe to the fur of his left upper arm. He hissed at the pain, reacting by Force pushing her backward two metres across the main hold’s deck plates.
Asajj used the rapid velocity, incorporating the mystical energy field to pick up extra speed and then flipped herself up into the air. She planted her feet against the bulkhead and kicked off, using the speed of the Force push and set her flying back toward the male Jedi like a blaster bolt, leading with her forward thrust plasma blades. This time he appeared to be ready for her, ducking low and rolling across the deck, while slashing upwards with his emerald blade. Whether it was a deliberate slice or simply bad luck, Asajj, caught unawares, narrowly avoided being gutted as she shot over the Elom, and his blade swept up directly into her path.
Once again, almost certainly driven by his sexual desire, his blade burned another long cut through her already useless garment. She was so shocked that, for a second time he had cut within a millimetre of her flesh and yet hadn’t left so much as a heat blister. Of course, he came to a well-balanced stance up on his feet behind her and Ventress, off kilter and shocked by his accuracy, slammed into the opposite bulkhead.
By the time she rose and turned to face him, lightsabers raised in a defensive posture, she was utterly naked and panting with a new sense of fear for this Jedi’s skills. His oily black eyes were staring blatantly at the rapid rise and fall of her high breasts. And then travelling down the tightness of her abdominals to the shadowed groove of her hairless vulva. Now it was the Elom’s turn to grin, or at least express the Elomese equivalent. There was also a pronounced tent in the crotch flaps of his clinging silken robe.
The expression bolstered Asajj and with a snarl she launched herself forward again, using her leading blade to batter aside the Elom’s lightsaber, while her second blade swept in from behind her in a great swooshing arc intending to decapitate. Somehow, he managed to bring his lightsaber back into a covering position and parried her swing. Asajj brought her first blade back into the attack, while the second swept across and down into a guard position.
She was making him work for his survival but his movements to reposition his sword to block and parry were precise and economical. However, she kept him on the defensive, using both blades to simultaneously attack while always maintaining defensible a position at the same time, never giving him the opportunity to counter and go on the offensive.
She knew the temptations of the Dark side. She knew its power yet she also knew its traps, that the Elom would be getting more and more frustrated and angry that he was unable to turn a block or parry into a counter attack, that she had him of the back foot and that all he wanted to do was to go on the offensive and beat her into submission with power, aggression and rage. Which was exactly where Asajj wanted him, angry and powerful and over-reaching, over-swinging, off balance and out of control. Once she saw that he was blinded by his enraged frustration and was leaving himself open to debilitating, even fatal, wounds, she knew she had him. She could easily cut him down to size using the old style that Count Dooku enjoyed, a score of minor cuts to inflict pain, injury, each that bit more debilitating and painful, sapping strength, will and capability, until there was nothing left to do but put the opponent out of their misery. However, Asajj didn’t want that, it wasn’t her style.
With a snarling growl, the Elom swept his emerald blade around over his head in a cycling horizontal assault that would surely take off Ventress’s head if it connected. But he had no chance. Asajj dropped to the floor, allowing her naked, sweat oiled flesh to propel her a metre across the deck plates, sliding forward until she was right under him, her lower half propelled between his spread legs.
She snapped up both blades, one to keep up the defensive screen just in case something went wrong, while the other whipped up vertically, thrusting up between his legs. The metre long lance of cycling plasma burying itself through his groin and all the internal organs beyond.
Feeling uncertain in her familiarity with Elom organ placement, she gave the hilt a quick stir so that the blade wheeled within him, destroying his internal organs such as they were.
He gagged once staggering, then stumbled and fell past her, hitting the deck face first and lying still. A metre long channel was burned through his fur covered back from his ass to the nape of his neck; Ventress’s blade having passed out through his prone back as he had fallen, as though no more substantial than a hologram.
<><><>
Ahsoka looked into Asajj’s eyes for a long time, her expression unreadable. Finally, she spoke up.
“The Elom Jedi was Liy-Mon Gav Tiyaru, I met him a few times. He was declared Missing in Action. No one in the Temple knew what became of him.”
“Now you do.”
“You killed him.”
“Better me than you. He had turned to the Dark side, another of you Jedi would have had to deal with him sooner or later. And isn’t it stated in your Jedi code that it is all but impossible to bring someone back from the Dark side? Once it takes control it will dominate your destiny for the rest of your life?”
“That’s what they say, yes. But personally, I’ve never accepted that. I have to believe that we can come back from that darkness. And aren’t you yourself an example of that?”
Asajj shrugged. Trying to be nonchalant.
“It is a daily struggle.” She admitted. “I don’t know what my future holds. But for now, yes, I am no longer under the influence of the Dark side.”
“From my point of view, I only have your word. My instinct says you’re telling the truth, but I could be wrong.”
“If I was not telling you the truth, you wouldn’t be here.”
Ahsoka shrugged, attempting nonchalance.
“One way or another.”
“Either way, what does it matter if he was corrupted or not? It was war and we were fighting on opposite sides. And surely, the Elom wasn’t the only Jedi to be corrupted?”
“There have been others. As I’m sure you’re aware. It’s become obvious that war isn’t a good environment for Jedi… He said you had killed his Master?”
“I have killed a handful of Jedi, as you no doubt know. We’re at war… were at war.”
“You don’t remember his master? His old master I assume, he had been Knighted already.”
“I do not. But we both know that it is not the Jedi way to seek vengeance. He must have fallen far to take up that desire.”
“I guess you’re right.” Ahsoka said with a troubled sigh.
They fell silent for a time. Finally, Ahsoka asked another question and the whispered interaction started up again.
“So, what happened to the Theelin and the pirate captain?”
“Neither of them were killed by the Clones, which was surprising. I left his fate to her. I put the corvette down in a spaceport, grabbed what valuables I had gathered and walked. Obviously, I collected my clothes first. I didn’t see the other two, I left them behind. I went off into the city, found another ship and lost myself in the outer rim for a while.”
Next: Kenobi.
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Asajj Ventress’ Sub-Dom Adventures.