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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
- 4
- 5
“I’m sure I can guess what you might be even more interested to hear about.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“Kenobi.”
“You’re saying you had an… encounter… with Master Obi-Wan?”
“He’d deny it of course, but yes… It was a while later when Maul had resurfaced. He and Savage were making waves in the underworld.”
“So, go on. What happened.”
“Kenobi and I found ourselves fighting side by side against Maul and Savage in the cargo hold of an old Terrapin class hauler. We were fought to a standstill and made our escape by locking ourselves in the hauler’s cockpit. As you may or may not know, the cockpit sections of those haulers double as escape pods. So, Kenobi activated the launch sequence and we left those Night brothers behind, escaping out into the edge of the Raydonia system. Unfortunately, we were close to three hundred million kilometres from the actual planet.
“The brothers took over the auxiliary controls in the cargo tanker and escaped the system, the hyperdrive being located on the tanker. Meanwhile, we had to drift through the system using what must be the slowest sublight propulsion system you can buy. It took us four whole rotations, at a grating 20 MG, even to reach outer orbit. There’s only so much meditation you can do, and even the Jedi feel boredom.”
“Wait, so you had sex?”
Ahsoka’s incredulity was striking. And amused Asajj, she couldn’t hold back her toothy grin.
“Have you ever been stuck inside the cockpit of a Goji-DF at sublight?”
“No, but...”
<><><>
Ventress took one last hard look, through the small glasteel panel in the inner airlock door, at the lightsaber scoring to the compromised outer door, and then shrugged and turned her back on the rear of the Goji’s fuselage. As long as the forcefield in the outer door held they would be fine.
The DF’s cockpit escape pod was barely three metres from the outer airlock door to the single pilot's seat and console. The total floor space no more than six square meters. Less.
Kenobi was already occupying the singular pilot’s seat, using the control panel to check system function, velocity, atmospheric filtration, and then program the autopilot with the most effective return trajectory. There was no copilot seat, no navigator station, just an Astromech scomp socket. Though there was no droid.
Asajj turned her back on the always infuriating Jedi, who appeared to be trying to deny her presence, and instead checked out what else the small emergency pod had to offer. The answer was very little. Because of the damage to the outer door at the hands of the Night brothers, any emergency items stored inside the airlock chamber were utterly inaccessible. So, all she could do was to search around the barebones interior bulkheads. Dull, undecorated grey. Smears of gaudy cockpit console illumination provided the only notable visible colour. The main overhead illumination came as a series of dim rectangular panel lights. Hardly suitable for the interior.

The only other feature was a series of randomly selected and hurriedly adhered posters adorning parts of the rear third of the cockpit. Some were advertisements, often of higher specification tankers and hauler. Perhaps aspirational imagery for the previous owner. A couple were clippings, possibly from old calendar portraits; one a display of high-end BlasTech pistols and a couple showing natural landscapes of a world Asajj didn’t recognise.
Beside the airlock door, above the control box, was perhaps the only example of officialdom. It was a clear-poly folder storing actual physical hardcopies of old manifests and cargo lists. Plus, folded up to the rear of the stack were printouts of courier licences, transport identification codes and assorted landing permits for a dozen worlds. The earliest examples dated back almost half a century.
Of most interest however, were also the most colourful. They consisted of a series of pornographic hardcopy stills. All female, all faded and curled at the edges. There was the ubiquitous shapely Twi’lek girl in a blue net body glove, a couple of human female twins devoid of clothing but adorned with jewellery and pressed up firmly against each other. A Devaronian, lounging seductively across the engine block of a sporty airspeeder, and then four shots of a particular cobalt skinned female Sakiyan.
Responding to the imagery with an eye roll, Asajj, turned her attention back to the subject of supplies and survival.
The only cargo storage available were the emergency storage compartments in the portside bulkhead. And, perhaps, a small emergency compartment beneath the deck plates. There couldn't be much room underfoot as the escape pod obviously required its own fuel tanks, sublight reactor and thrusters, plus directional repulsorlifts with their own fuel cells, plus navigational sensor clusters and a standard deflector system. All essentials for interstellar travel. And there was no room in the sides or upper surface for all that stuff. And the rear housed main thrusters flanking the airlock. Therefore, the only possible location for those essential features must be beneath the floorplates.
Her guess proved correct, the emergency rations were stored in the deck compartment, universal nutrition bars and compressed water, enough for two weeks. With their Force augmented survival training, she and Kenobi could probably double that duration if need be. She also located a separate container housing a couple of backup atmosphere respirators; in case the air ran out.
In the portside storage container, behind its sliding hatch access, she found the ubiquitous universal medical kit. And a pack of insulation blankets. There was even a multifunction-inflatable, programmed to arrange itself into a floatation device, a covered shelter or a simple mattress.
As there was only the one available seat which looked as uncomfortable, thinly padded and barely reclinable, Asajj decided an inflatable mattress might prove desirable. They could take turns. Perhaps one sleep while the other maintain a watch on their progress through the system. Unassisted, the journey would take days. And with these low spec engines, perhaps those days could fall into double figures. Of course, there was always the possibility that they could stumble across an intra-system transport that could pick them up and ferry them back to the planet.
She wasn’t concerned about Kenobi. Though always intensely irritating, she knew he was an honourable sort. And they had just fought side by side, on the same side, against Oppress and the red-tattooed Zabrak she hadn’t recognised. She felt she could trust that Kenobi would not try to stop her from making her own way once they were back on Raydonia. She was fortunate it hadn’t been Skywalker she had stumbled across in her pursuit of Oppress. Kenobi’s aggressively stubborn protégé would no doubt have attempted to arrest her and drag her back to the Republic to stand trial for war crimes or some foolishness.
That moment of realisation had her smiling despite herself. And she realised that she was looking back at the rear view of the Human General, sitting in the pilot’s seat. And in that moment, she was aware of feeling a little, at least momentarily, affection. She might well be certain that, as soon as he opened his annoying mouth, all that goodwill she was feeling would instantaneously vanish. But still, examining that rugged, powerful musculature beneath those grimy, sweaty, plasma scorched robes… in that moment, she felt there was certainly something about him. Perhaps even something alluring. For years she had been filled with nothing but hate for the Jedi, Kenobi and Skywalker more than most as they had defeated her at every turn and every opportunity their paths crossed.
She had looked on those two Knights as responsible for all those painful punishments her master had meted out, each time she had failed him.
Shaking off the distraction, Asajj turned her attention to the inflatable. She would forge herself a comfortable seat and then go to work on the burns and abrasions that were finally beginning to make themselves known.
The device’s activator stud was the simplest thing imaginable. Small simplistic line-illustrations of the multiple configurations with a little button next to each. Pick the one you want, press the button, get out of the way and count to three. It even had its own compressed gas supply so it wasn’t taking away emergency atmosphere. Getting out of the way turned out to be the hardest part. She had to squash herself into the corner by the inner airlock.
It inflated, with a little ‘bang’ that snapped the grumbling Jedi’s head around, into a droid-yellow double bed size mattress. It also inflated vertically, so that Ventress had to grab it and manhandle it down onto the floor space and then shove it as far aft as she could.
She climbed on, crawled across it and then sat down with her back to the starboard bulkhead, her long legs stretched out in front of her and started on the fastenings of her clothes.
She kept one half-interested eye on Kenobi throughout. He appeared to be keeping his back to her again, studying console readouts as though his life depended on it. It was almost as if he was actively avoiding recognition of her continued presence. Amused, she slipped off her boots and leggings first, depositing them onto the deck in the narrow portside space between the bulkhead and the inflatable mattress.
Unclipping her utility belt with its moulded hip plate armour, thigh pouches, and the attachments for her lightsabers she rolled it carefully and placed it beside her boots. Of course, she only had one saber left for the moment. She having been disarmed by Savage, and having leant her sister blade to the, at the time, disarmed Kenobi; he had retrieved his own weapon then thrown hers back to her so at least she still possessed one. And at least she had a supply of spares and back up synthetic crystals to build a replacement, in a hidden wall compartment of her lock-up back on Tatooine.
Wanting to keep the remaining saber close by and uncovered, just in case, she laid the curved hilt across the reinforced toes of her lightweight boots. The armoured hide vambraces unclipped easily enough along with the silk-styled arm coverings beneath. She peeled off both and then dropped beside her leggings.
Next came the tabard with left-pauldron combination. The thin flaps of hide, covering her shoulders chest and abdomen, were tooled as well as patterned by intricate shadowy lacings of black, grey and brown. She had liked the style. It felt familiar not unlike the style of Jedi robe she had worn in her youth of Rattatak. And that had brought her emotionally closer, a step or two at least, to her childhood training under Ky Narec. A sign of respect to the memory of her former master. A man whose memory she once more felt love for, after so many years of Dark side fuelled resentment and rage.
It had been a hard thing to loosen the grip of hatred for the Jedi and its Order, she had struggled along year after year, until she had realised that she didn’t need to. Not completely. Instead, she could allow herself, once again, to look with fondness and love at the singular Knight of that Order who had equipped her with the skills to survive and prosper.
And she now sought to fend off the ever present seductive and corrupting power of the Dark side. It was a daily struggle, and it would be a struggle for the rest of her life. But a struggle she had come to realise was a worth making.

She was down to her flesh skimming torso-glove. The seam bonds of the high collared, sleeveless garment were designed to separate only with deliberate intent, and sometimes it could take a little practice to perfect the method, depending on the manufacturer. The bonded seam from her collar, down between her breasts, and onward to the arrowhead tip of the skirt’s cotch-flap separated, allowing her to peel the garment away like a second skin, leaving her fully naked on the mattress.
She knelt up so she could go through the motions of applying bacta gel to the abrasions on her arms, stomach and legs, but there were light burns on her back and a couple of other places that she was struggling to reach.
“Kenobi? Your assistance is required.”
“Can’t you just…”
Kenobi lost track of his sentence as he spun the seat and looked back at her, perhaps for the first time. His eyes almost popped out of his head.
Asajj tried her very best to keep her face straight and her attitude in line with her usual demeanour of psychotic-beauty-with-ultraviolence-just beneath-the-surface. She kept her attention fully on the act of caressing the bacta gel into the light wounds, caused by the coronal touch of a lightsaber. Though at the same time she ensured that her motions were an intimate caress rather than simply rubbing in. Not cracking a smile was hard.
She knew what was going on inside. It was partially as an obstruction to the stress of the near loss of the battle against those infernal Night brothers. She had long since been taught to channel and dissipate her fear and anxiety relating to combat and also pain, injury and defeat. On this occasion she was channelling a positive sense of fun and potential pleasure, actively replacing the under the surface barbs of negativity that continued to nip and scratch at her psyche.
“You’re wounded, Ventress.” Kenobi said suddenly.
He sounded almost anxious, a nervous boy’s stammer. He also blatantly refused to draw attention to his seeing her naked. As if he knew it was a trap of some kind.
“It is of little consequence, Kenobi.” She sighed.
“I may let you call me Obi-Wan.” He offered with a sly little half smile.
“Very well, Obi-Wan. I do require assistance, actually. I have wounds I cannot reach; would you lend me a hand?”
“Erm… alright, Ventress.”
“Asajj.”
She still kept her eyes down but allowed her lips to stretch into what would look like a coy smile.
“Very well, Asajj.”
She watched his eyes as he donned the disinfectant gloves, squeezed bacta gel onto his fingertips and began to gently rub the healing balm onto her skin.
He started with the obvious ruddy abrasions and the bruising that was beginning to reveal itself against her creamy alabaster skin, but then she began to point out other small patches of skin where, allegedly she was sore or injured.
All too soon the Jedi found his hands touching her in the more illicit and erogenous zones. Though, perhaps suspicious, he neither questioned her directives, nor did he hesitate very much. Only when his hands were caressing in gentle circles around and across the small, pliant orbs of her rouge capped breasts, did she spot the obvious signs of embarrassment and uncertainty.
He stroked and gently kneaded her breasts until she was breathing heavily and her thickly engorged nipples had thrust forward, hard as stones. He was blushing pink when glanced up into her eyes, saw the amusement and pleasure and the brimming lust she was enjoying. He coloured further his flush deepening, then he released his hands from her breasts and pulled off the thin poly-film gloves.
“Not something we can do.” He muttered.
The comment came across as slightly embarrassed, slightly uncertain, slightly regretful, and mildly accusing.
“Yes, we can. Of course, we can. We have days together in this small pod. And it isn’t like there is anything else to do.”
“We can meditate, there’s plenty of time for meditation. And it will help the healing process.”
“We can meditate...” She conceded. “…Afterwards. We have days in here. Alone together, nothing to do except entertain ourselves… And each other.”
His expression revealed his dubious thinking. However, his bare hand was back in touch with the corded flesh of her thigh, the touch didn’t appear to be entirely conscious. Kenobi was lost somewhere, far from entertaining the mindfulness of his Jedi training. Ventress found that an interesting realisation. His eyes were unfocussed, his expression elsewhere.
Reaching lightly through the Force she sensed his accelerated heartbeat, the increase of capillary blood flow causing his face and neck to heat up and redden. She could even sense the flow of electro-chemicals in his brain and even an early, tingle of response in his genitals.
She felt somehow assured and encouraged by these little responses. It proved that on some level, perhaps just in the ancient animal part of his brain, that he did actually find her sexually attractive. And that was all she would require. She was tempted to reach in and caress his balls through the Force. But felt that it would be too much too soon. That it might scare him off. She relaxed her probing.
“No one will know.” She went on. “And you are not likely to form a dangerous attachment to me, are you?”
“Not likely.” He conceded, with not quite a smile.
He shifted his arm slightly, gave a short hiss of breath that was not quite a wince. Looking, she spotted a burn in the sleeve of the upper right arm of his robe. It had snatched a faintly oval shaped hole in the natural weave of the fabric, she glimpsed bare skin beneath.
“You have wounds too, Kenobi.”
“Yes, I suppose I do. And I said to call me Obi-Wan.”
“I will repay the favour.” She announced, slowly reaching for his robes. “Surely that would not be offensive to you?”
“You aren’t offending me, Ven… Asajj… not at all, It’s just…”
She silenced him by slowly, carefully taking up his lightsaber and unclipping it from its belt clip cum charging socket. He held her eyes, and she read there the combination of caution and the active decision to trust her. She placed the lightsaber hilt on the deck beside her own. In plain view and easy to recover. Then her small, dextrous hands returned at his utility belt, unfastening the small metal buckle and then smoothly uncoiling the leather strap from around his slender waist.
Nothing else was said. Not for a long time.
Together, they stripped off his robes. The boots first which proved, surprisingly lightweight. She had never been so up close and personal to Jedi garments straight from the main Coruscant temple. Her own had been made from Rattatak fabrics and in the skimpy style that reflected that planet’s natural heat. While her master’s had been old and many of the items had, over the years, been replaced with Rattataki garments as they became worn out or damaged. Besides, he had always taken care of his own clothing and equipment.
After the boots came the clone armour vambraces. They were standard plastoid alloy. Though close up, the old damage, repairs and resurfacing was obvious.
The tunic followed, crossed flaps of natural fabric, lighter and thinner than they looked and so similar to her own, though Obi-Wan’s were the pale colour of bleached sand. The trousers, of the same fabric as the tunic, were equally lightweight and airy, particularly comfortable though hardwearing. They were fixed at the waist band by molecular bonded seams. The cross fronted undershirt was the darkest of the earthen colours in the palette of his robes. High collared but silky, thin and sheer, and as comfortable as fabric could be.
Overall, it was an experience for Asajj, almost the unwrapping of a gift. However, it didn’t prepare her for what lay beneath all those high-quality layers earthen hued cloth. Calling the creamy skinned, lightly haired, musculature impressive had to be the worse understatement Asajj could have thought up. She didn’t actually say anything, she just stared dumbly, as though lost in wide eyed meditation.
She was used to the face, the smooth cheeked natural kindness of his features. Those startling crystalline eyes, the expressive lips, always quick to smile, be it openly amused or slyly sarcastic. The facial hair, always tidy and well kempt, she already knew to be surprisingly soft and smooth. It added a fatherly element to his unnaturally youthful face.
His hair style had changed to over the course of the war. Currently side-parted and short, though with a curtain-like sweep at the front that tended to drop across one eye when he was moving quickly. She had never allowed herself to admit that she liked it, that it gave him some kind of delicacy or boyishness perhaps… She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it certainly softened him in her eyes.
As for the rest. It was purely mouth-watering. He was lean but well-muscled, powerful. Drawn rather than bulky, closer to what might be expected of an athlete than a warrior. His shoulders were broad with pronounced trapezius and deltoids. Pectorals and abdominals were exquisitely well defined. While his extremities were long, lean and taut, simmering with physicality.
She gazed admiringly down the length of his torso, her eyes could only end up in one location. His penis, nestled in an orderly well-trimmed nest of pubic hair did, on the other hand, appear to be very much that of a warrior. It was larger than she would have expected and thicker too. As though it possessed the bulging warrior’s musculature that the rest of his body didn’t.
Asajj found herself staring, practically salivating. She hadn’t realised that she was so wound up and so in need of conjoining her body with this one, having that handsome cock all the way inside her. Once she got it hard of course. He certainly wasn’t at full hardness yet. Though, he also wasn’t fully flaccid either. She had absolutely had an effect on him already, which was a good sign.
At the same time however, there did feel like there was something different about him. Different than she was used to from their previous interactions. Something strange. Less of the confident Jedi General, more boyish in some way. A little more sensitive. Younger. There wasn’t the usual sardonic back and forth that had always been a strong aspect to their past face offs, when they weren’t actively trying to murder each other. Actually, often when they were trying to murder each other.
In this moment, in this intimate setting, he actually came across as feeling out of his depth, reticent, even a little afraid. Or at least innocent. Or maybe simply inexperienced.
She found herself wondering if that was actually the case. There had been rumours of relationships or love affairs, with the Mandalorian Duchess Kryze, for instance. Count Dooku had personnel files on many of the more illustrious or talented Separatist enemies. Kenobi among them. However, it was only ever documented as an unsubstantiated rumour and no one knew if it went anywhere.

It started with a kiss. A strangely gentle, almost polite, introduction between the Jedi General and ex-Sith assassin. The kiss itself was strange too. Asajj felt energised. Hot and excited, hungry. While Kenobi was much more reserved and hesitant, practically demure. She smacked her lips onto his slack mouth, leaning into him, pressing her flesh onto his. She enjoyed the warmth of him, the slippery film of sweat on his skin, the fresh scent of him. The softness of his lips.
She could tell from the start that he was keeping a tight check on his emotions. Were the Jedi that afraid of feeling anything? Did they think the Dark side was hiding around every single corner ready to leap and out corrupt them at the slightest inclination of emotion or attachment? At the same time, it was obvious this was not his first kiss, at least. Not his first romantic kiss.
His skin was smooth and warm, beneath a little cool surface texture from the smattering of pale body hair. She slid a spread palm and inner forearm up his back, fingertips tracing the smooth hills and valleys of muscle, the flesh-sheathed plates of his shoulder blades, the tightness in the trapezoids, the delicate hairs at the nape of his neck.
In return, his arms came around her waist, a light hesitant touch. His hands smoothed the taut, muscular flesh at her lower back. Fingertips caressing the shallow trench that denoted the contour of her spine. She felt the power in his hands, in the corded muscles of his forearms.
He let out a little moan against her lips, making them tingle. Ventress parted hers and stabbed her tongue hotly forward. He seemed surprised. For a moment she was licking side to side across his pursed lips but then he relaxed and opened his mouth, his lips meeting hers again, cocking his head and pressing inward to form a snug mouth to mouth seal. Asajj thrust her tongue past his teeth, searching out his. She smiled inwardly, picturing them replicating one of their many lightsaber duals with their tongues. She thought that, this time, for once, she might well have the advantage.
Inwardly, she was smiling when she felt him recognise the build of his own excitement, along with his physical arousal. He was fHew as He inally relaxing into the pleasure of her embrace, her slender body, her hungry kiss. And allowing it, embracing it. Even if he wasn’t about to give into it fully, or allow it to control him.
She used her other hand to knowingly and deliberately tease him. Keeping her touch at his waist, she used light fingertip caresses on the sensitive skin at his hip, playing until she caused a little quiver to zip through him. Her touch strayed across his hip to his upper thigh, along and around, caressing, tracing muscles, sliding across the top and down to the heat of the inner thigh, circling, closing in on his groin. Though she never strayed into contact with his genitals or well-trimmed pubic hair. As she slid in close, Asajj fancied she could actually feel the heat emanating from his erection against the backs of her fingers and hand. However, she was precise with her touch. Millimetre close but no contact, exquisite in her teasing.
She pictured him getting more and more aggrieved, frustrated with her touch. A building rage, a need to feel her hand encircle his girth, to squeeze and pump. But he was far too much of a Jedi to do anything about it. In fact, he’d probably waste all his energy on calming that sense of frustration. He’d probably lose his erection altogether, lost in calming Jedi meditation. She’d see to it that nothing happened to that erection. She had her ways. And she knew this was going to be a lot of fun.
As though reading her intent, Kenobi abruptly started to reciprocate. Paying back in equal measure in the hunger, and passion of her increasingly wanton kiss. He followed her lead, rather than showing initiative, but still his tongue came up circling hers, stroking caressing, playing. And Asajj let out a long throaty groan of combined pleasure and amusement.
She was really starting to feel it now. And in a way, it was a fresh experience for her. Two equals coming together for mutual desire. No submission or dominance. No powerplay. Well, there might be a bit of powerplay. She certainly sensed his inexperience. And probably, next to the essentially celibate Jedi, Ventress must be vastly experienced, a consummate whore. She laughed inwardly at the notion.
Even so, his obvious inexperience didn’t cancel out how excited she was feeling. About getting together with him, getting pounded by him, riding him. Nor did it diminish how impatient she had become. The most urgent frustration was of her actually waiting on Kenobi. So she, literally, took him in hand.
Reaching down, Asajj sliding her fingertips from his shoulder across his triceps and the corded muscles of his forearm down to his hand. She wrapped her fingers around it and gently but insistently lifted it upward. She pressing his calloused palm against the soft, smooth orb of her right breast. He gasped into her open mouth, at the feel of her under his hand. However, even with that handful he barely moved, just swishing his fingertips left and right, perhaps marvelling at the smoothness and warmth of the flesh of the upper curve, while the heel of his palm lifted and supported the perky weight of the mound. Her hard nipple poking into that palm felt like it was burning hot and trapped in an oven of its own making. She wanted him to squeeze, to playfully pinch and pull at her nipple but he barely moved. She closed her hand over his instead and squeezed, educating him.
She tried to keep her cool and tell herself to keep her impatience in check. But he was starting to feel more like a boy than a man. She needed him to take charge a little, or at least make more of an effort to show a little spontaneity. Letting go of his hand allowed him to respond. And again, he followed her example, his caress of her breast more attentive and exactly as firm as she had dictated. Delightful little hot spasms in reaction to his fingers contracting on the orb, pressing into her flesh.
Ventress’ freed hand went straight for the goods. She slid her fingertips down his torso this time, across the bulge of a pectoral, circling his nipple slightly, another hint offered as she gently pinched his nipple, gently rolled it between the pads of a finger and thumb. Then she was away again, following the range of his abdominals southward. Fingertips trailed a tickle-soft touch that brought a series of little quivers through his body, but then her hand felt the heat of her target and this time she didn’t avoid it, or even hesitate. She found the solid pillar of his erect cock, encircled it firmly in her small hand and squeezed. Experience told her exactly how much firmness of grip would almost certainly feel the best for him.

And for Kenobi, having Asajj’s hand on his cock, seemed to be the switching on of a light. She half-heartedly wished she could read the General’s thoughts, finding herself wondering what he was thinking, how he was feeling. And what he thought of her, physically, as well as her actions and her intentions. Was he on edge? Suspicious? On some level, might he wonder if this was some kind of trick, to try and get him off guard? Surely not.
His hands came into abrupt action, first taking up both breasts, one in each hand and squeezing firmly, a perfect match for what she had shown him. Stroking, squeezing, compressing, fashioning her best ever cleavage. Using the understanding and recognition of a mature human rather than a foolish, overexcited child, his touch was perfect and just as she had prescribed it. He abruptly turned his attention to her nipples, essentially replicating her own assault on his. It was a delicious moment, assuring Asajj that he had at least some natural skill. Catching her lust-stiffened teats between fingertips, giving them little tweaks, stretching her breasts away from her ribs by his grasp of the hard buds while rolling them back and forth, thumbing the puckered tips. He soon had Asajj panting into his open mouth. Their wanton kiss continuing throughout.

She rewarded him with a tight fist jerking, up and down his silken foreskin. Impressed with the flattering rocklike solidity of his shaft, she just prayed to the Force that he had stamina, that he wouldn’t just to empty his balls after a few frantic moments of dextrous labouring.
Again, and to Ventress’ relief, he proved himself man rather than boy. She kept on at his cock, speeding up until his loins were literally straining, his buttocks tensing, hips arching off the mattress; only to slow right down, teasing him, using her fingertips around the exposed coronal ridge, to tantalise all his most sensitive areas.

He broke the kiss numerous times throwing his head back and groaning, before staring into her eyes with a look of almost wonder. It was as though he had never known such physical pleasure could exist. And then his lips would find hers again and the deep tongue-frolic kiss would resume.
Ventress was glad of the careful grooming that kept his facial hair so soft and smooth. It neither scratched at her skin nor caused any unsightly rash.

She wanted more, more contact, to push them further into sexual gratification. She wanted his cock inside her. She wanted to feel it, to have it stretching her, warming her core making her tingle. She wanted to taste it.
Pulling back from the kiss, she licked her lips to clean up stray webs and beads of mingled saliva. Lust burned hotly in his eyes. He leaned in to get more of the taste of her lips and tongue. However, with a smile, she put a hand on his broad chest, halting his advance. He gave a little groan of disapproval. in response, and as if making up for the sudden potential rejection, she gave his cock a hearty squeeze. The heady caress brought about a near wince and a guttural groan of desire.
“Let me do this…” She said around a cheeky smile.
She held his wide eyed, excited gaze and his throbbing erection for a heartbeat before dipping her head, parting her lips and burying her face in his lap.
Kenobi’s reaction was immediate and priceless. He let out a shocked little howl, like a Gundark. Asajj almost choked on her mouthful at the surprising reaction. She repaid his complement by driving his whole length balls deep into her throat. He fell back onto the mattress, groaning, his hips twitching with little jerky upthrusts.
Ventress drew back a few inches, removing him from her gripping throat muscles. But that was only so she could attack the underside of his shaft and its bloated crown with her tongue. She attacked him with playfully timed laves and flicks, bringing delightful jolts of additional straining hardness into his engorged length. His body was twitching beneath Asajj as she worked, and he was moaning and panting continually.
She was proud of her ability, and was enjoying a degree of superiority and gratification, that her talent could command such an obviously ecstatic reaction. She thought she heard him whisper something like “What is this?” But her ears were full of the rapid wet squelching noises of her mouth, lips and tongue as she gave him a hell of a ride. His complimentary responses drove her to work harder and faster on his hot pulsing length. She ploughed that swollen head back into her oesophagus, playing her muscles around him and lapping at the underside, while she rocked her head in tiny side to side motions, working that last inch deeper and deeper until her lips felt numbed, crushed tight to his pubic bone.
Kenobi was making noises like he was being Force choked. And she almost reached out through that mystical haze to check she wasn’t doing something accidentally.
Though her gullet, pressured by his sizable girth was utterly blocked, she forced a hard swallow. Her muscles working at his hot meat. And he responded with a hoarse sounding mini-roar and sat bolt upright. She laughed, the vibrations zapping through her throat and sending delicious tingles through his embedded cock. It brought out a second choked-roar that he concluded with a very un-Jedi-like moaning curse. Drawing her mouth backward slowly, his meat literally gave a wet pop as she released it from her throat. She hooked her lips around the rim of the swollen head and, holding it there, attacked it with her tongue. One hand encircling the slick flesh, working her fist up and down the exposed length of his erection.
Listening to him pant and moan, she decided to test him, to teasingly brush him with a shade of the Dark side. Just to judge how he would react, or perhaps overreact. Continuing her tonguing, sucking and jerking she reached out gently through the Force and located his hands. She found two clenched fists lying dormant, pressing into the rubbery surface of the mattress alongside his hips. Trying to keep her excitement in check, Ventress reached over with her free hand and took hold of his wrist, lifting his hand, which naturally opened. She put it on top of her own smooth crown, silently urging him to push down on her head. In preparation, she removed the obstruction of her fist, that was still pistoning up and down the base of his shaft.
Characteristically perhaps, though he didn’t remove his hand from the top of her head, it wouldn’t move of his own accord. Asajj, inwardly rolling her eyes, put her own hand on top of his and gave it an almighty shove, slamming her own face down hard into his lap, filling her gullet with his cock and snatching yet another load groan of pleasure-filled appreciation from the General. She had to repeat the action a couple of times before he showed himself to be comfortable enough to take over. Though, just like with her nipple assault he was careful not to take the aggression any further than her own level of exertion had dictated.
“So called, all-powerful Jedi Knight. Too much the damned low down, gentle-man.” She considered as, under his urging, she worked his drool coated shaft from crown to root. She went on popping it in and out her throat while her tongue swept side to side over as much of the underside as she could. Her lips remained sealed firmly around the admittedly impressive girth. He had his hands sealed tight around her head, one gripping the back of her head and the other was locked under her chin, not quite around her throat. And for a moment she got excited, wondering if her influence had indeed corrupted him, even just the tiniest sliver.
He used his grip to lift her mouth clear of his glistening erection. Abruptly devoid of raging hard human phallus, Ventress cursed bitterly, though silently. She had been thoroughly enjoying herself, her sense of power and control and her skilled ability to donate pleasure to another. And then he surprised her.
“Let me do this for you.” He offered.
He didn’t give her a chance to be confused or to consider as, sliding his hands under her thighs, he gently rolled her onto her back and spread her long, slender thighs apart. For a second, he gazed with an uncharacteristic hunger at her exposed, hairless core. Before he slid upward and placed himself onto his knees and elbows, arms wrapped under and around her taut thighs, holding them wide apart. Leaning in, he went face-first for her flushed, swollen and lube-glinting vulva.
She wasn’t about to say no.

Ventress found the General to be amateurish yet selfless in his efforts. He tongued her cunt lips, flicking an enigmatic path around her entryway, circling, exploring, tasting. Before he slipped into the heat of her tunnel entrance, thrusting deep with his tongue. He was observant, seeming to pay attention to her breaths, listening to her moans and the little jolts and twitches, especially throughout her inner thighs that filled his peripheral vision. When he judged the time right, he switched target, flicking his tongue upwards and started to go voraciously at her clitoral hood. An oral assault that almost had Asajj swooning.
Still, he wasn't quite right in his timing, he was a little too early, but she appreciated his efforts all the same. In fact, she couldn’t help but gorge herself on the undeniable results either. She felt the culmination of all his effort as lustrous and well defined as any orgasm she had ever felt. Her whole body trembled as he ploughed her with his tongue. Countless over-responsive nerve endings through her clitoris felt electrified by his attentions and her own sexual reaction. In fact, the entire erogenous cluster of her loins felt as though they were alive, dancing under a raw, electric current.
Though it felt like an electric current, it was nothing like that terrible Dark side plasma that had been used on her during those numerous dreadful past experiences. Roughly shaking the intruding thought away, before it coalesced, Asajj focussed instead on what Kenobi was doing between her quivering thighs.

She soon found herself turned into a quaking ball of concentrated tingles and pulses. The fiercely building sensation intensified rapidly before it fully boiled over, becoming a sharp, intense, pulsing detonation. Her swollen clit was throbbing like an overworked heart, threatening to take the explosion too far, make it too intense. However, the excruciating sexual joy eclipsed it in time, to engulf her senses, The climax overtaking her very awareness.
In a microsecond it had blossomed, like an over-tricked plasma bolt, the sensation expanding abruptly. It transformed into an intense gushing furore, an explicit voidance of built-up hot liquid joy. Her mind seared, seemed to experience a timeless sensation of whiteout, like that split-second of entering hyperspace, though without the unpleasant flip-flopping of the innards.
From Kenobi’s point of view, she must have appeared to have swooned, fallen into a momentary faint as, when she opened her eyes and put her chin to her chest to look up at him, he was kneeling there, staring down at her with wide eyes. A common expression for during this particular occasion.
His cheeks were flushed, his lips, facial hair and throat were all glistening with cobwebs of her juices. There were even beads of her fluid on his bare chest. He was almost smiling, those sharply intelligent, yet often snarky blue eyes gleaming with something she couldn’t quite make out. Affection? Surprise?
She dismissed the curiosity. Her body was screaming at her, demanding his cock inside her and she wasn’t about to ignore it.
Using her core strength and agility, Asajj showed off. With athletic slowness and grace, she arched herself up right, ending up sitting facing the General in a full-splits. Smiling, she put her weight on one hand, reaching out for the gratifyingly hard shaft, nestled in the apex of the triangle of his crossed legs with the other.
“Time for the main event.” She breathed, gutturally.
She licked her lips, eyes blazing as she reached forward and snatched up his meat. The shaft tensed under her possessive fist. She gave him a couple of exploratory jerks, rolling the foreskin back and forth over the still swollen, angry looking crown and then slid herself in close.
She drew her feet together, allowing her body weight to angle her forward, putting herself above the Jedi. Using her presence inside his personal space, Ventress eased him down onto his back, a supple feline-ascent drew her over him until she straddled his hips. His visibly pulsing erection lay directly beneath her naked, lusty groin. She felt the hardness pressing up against the soft heat of her splayed vulva, her fluid trickling onto the underside ridge of his meat. A little back and forth sliding of her hips anointed that length and had him twitching and panting, staring back at her, eyes roving between their conjoined groins and her face.
“You’re certainly a beautiful woman, Asajj.” He moaned, barely a whisper. “Deadly, of course. But beautiful too.”
There was a hint of the usual mildly-mocking attitude in his comment, but it was so deeply sheathed by the deliberate compliment that the sharpness was softened to that of a woollen baby blanket. Asajj couldn’t help but smile down at the human. She repaid the compliment by lifting herself, levering his erection upward with one hand and then lodging that hard heat firmly into the entrance of her soaked vagina.
She made sure to take the inexorable descent onto his rod incredibly slowly. And she stared down into his eyes, that were blazing with an intensity that reflected her own. She wanted to ensure he didn’t get impatient and thrust up into her, but at the same time she didn’t want to mess the mood up by instructing him what should be doing.
Even though experience told her that males were impatient and invariably wanted to be fucking hard and fast, to take over and dominate and possess. Kenobi, the Jedi General, avatar of patience and respect, would surely give her the best chance of keeping a grip on that self-control of this. Even so, she held his intent gaze, trying to silently send to him her desires, perhaps even a silent plea to the Force that he would understand her requirement.
And he did just that, though he appeared to struggle at times. His fists clenching, pressing down into the surface of the mattress. Eyes squeezed shut, jaw locking. Apparently fighting what must have been natural, prehistoric urges.
At the halfway point into the depth of her searing tunnel, she paused and reversed course, lifting herself until she felt the stretch of his bloated ridge at the very mouth of her searing tunnel. She held him in place for a dozen heartbeats before beginning to slowly impale herself all over again.
One thing that surprised Ventress was the sheer pleasure she took from simply observing Kenobi’s physical and facial reactions to the feel of his shaft being accepted into the scintillating heat of her tight, powerful body. The experience of viewing his pleasure beneath her proved to be surprisingly satisfying and elating.
Then came the exquisite pressure in her core as his hot shaft, inch by inch driving ever deeper, filled out and stretched apart the snug, hot walls of her rapidly lubricating tunnel. Kenobi let out a long, guttural groan that turned into a breathless hiss as he finally bottomed out at the top of her churning tight sheath, his bloated crown pushing fiercely against the base of her uterus.
Her juices were flowing freely and she could feel them basting his balls and the under curves of her hard buttocks. His hands came up, first to her waist then sliding gently along her rib cage until the covered her vibrantly shaking breasts. He cupped them, gently at first, then squeezing, though still with a self-control and care Ventress was not accustomed to. His hands rocked up and down, maintaining the contact and the gentle touch of his calloused flesh over hers which, by comparison, was eminently soft and smooth, other than the puckered discs of her areolae and the achingly hard, pulsing stalagmites of her nipples.
Once she felt the head of his meat compressing against her uterus, she dropped every prior restriction. It wasn’t even a conscious decision; it was entirely her body’s doing. Her hips started to rock, her legs tensing and relaxing, hands sliding up to rest on the hard slabs of the supine General’s pectoral muscles. She noted that her hips were bouncing at speed, lifting and dropping her snug tunnel over the lower half of his engorged and now well lubricated shaft.
She loved his facial expression. The combination of pleasure and essentially disbelief. The realisation of experiencing the reality of an activity, she was sure, he had previously only known through theory, through reading and perhaps holographic simulation.
She knew little of such teachings in the temple. For herself, Ky Narec had given her an entirely academic and theoretical understanding of the so-called ins and outs of average diploid reproduction. Later, she had experimented alone by reaching out through the Force to explore the sensations and emotions that took place when sentients of species different to her own engaged in sexual interaction.
She remembered her confusion, the apparent violence, the aggression, especially in the manner of males lying atop females and their rapid thrusting. The moans and grunts sounding so akin to pain and suffering. Early on, she had formulated assumptions that females tended to allow their males access to their bodies as a gift or reward. And that, for the females, it was more a chore or even a cultural necessity, an accepted discomfort, rather than a personal kind of pleasure.
She had even almost made the mistake of interfering more than once, when she felt a male’s attentions were of violent demand and aggressive interaction, rather than the sensual pleasuring she herself learned about once she had let her Jedi training slip.

She had only interfered on one occasion, during those years as a Padawan; using the Force to physically remove an aggressively humping male from between the spread thighs of his mate and tossing him halfway across the sleeping chamber. Only to baulk at the horrified and loving response from the female who threw herself from the bed to embrace and protect her mate from the invisible attacker. Ventress had walked away, sheepish and confused.
Of course, Ky had sensed not only her confusion but had been aware of those actions that had caused her troubled state of mind. He had sat her down and clarified the situation of the semblance of male aggression along with the reality of female enjoyment of the act of ‘procreational practice’ as he had called it.
It had taken Ventress a while to come to terms with the revelations. Though it was barely a year after that before she had experienced for herself many different kinds of sexual interactions, gaining firsthand understanding on the complexities of sexual pairing, as well as the pain and the pleasure that could come from it.
Back in her body, Asajj settled herself into a sweaty and urgent rhythm, whipping her hips back and forth over Kenobi’s lap, working his hard hot shaft in and out of her slick snug tunnel, while he continued fondling her breasts and toying delightfully with her engorged nipples. She dropped herself firmly on the bottom out, spanking her uterus down onto his rock-solid, flared crown. On the upstroke, she squeezed hard around his shaft, dragging on him as she slid herself off him, jerking him hard as she slicked her tunnel to the tip of his cock head until she felt the ring of her entrance start to slide inwards, with less a half dozen centimetres still inside her. Her positioning and accuracy would have impressed the General, if he hadn’t been so blatantly overwhelmed by his own mind-expanding pleasure.
She felt the upward build of her own pleasure centre but it would take a little more effort to get her to the crest of her sensual mountain, and she didn’t want to lose that momentum. At the same time, she knew from experience that there was little chance Kenobi would last very long. Certainly not long enough to let her get to where she needed to be to cum. So, she started to slow down her pace, letting off a degree of the tightness of her grip cinching his erection. Replying on their combined heat and flowing lubrication to replace the pleasure of mutual friction.
Kenobi was essentially silent, other than a back of the throat grunt and the occasional unstoppable moan. But his eyes and his facial expression, seemingly showing a level of disbelief, told her everything. As did his hands on her breasts, squeezing with increased passion as his own pleasure built. Though still, he was able to control himself to a surprising degree. That his body was dormant beneath her, apart from his caressing hands. He wasn’t thrusting up into her, she barely felt any reactionary jolts or tensing in his muscles or hips. And yet it was all there in his face, the joy and the passion he was experiencing beneath her. And Asajj, felt really certain, for the first time that he had never fucked that Mandalorian Duchess. He might have risked a kiss but, if his feelings for Kryze as stated in Dooku’s personnel files were accurate, his Jedi responsibilities would have forced him to keep his distance from her as much as possible.
Ventress knew well from Ky Narec’s own teachings that for the Jedi, the risk of forming attachments and the potential pain of losing that attachment was far too dangerous to risk under any circumstances. There had been far too many Padawans over the past thirty-thousand-year history of the Order, and even more than a few of the fully Knighted, those highly experienced members, who had still found themselves corrupted to the Dark side by forming such attachments.
Of course, it was different for Ventress. At least, it was easier. This was nothing but a physical association for her. And their mutual feeling might realistically be seen as closer to dislike than anything akin to attraction or fondness. Though… was even that the truth? For one, she couldn’t refute that he made for an attractive human. No matter what snide remarks she had tossed his way over the years while they had sparred, both verbally and physically. That had been the case even during the dual duel they had only just escaped from. It was just her way.
Even when she had sparred with her master as his Padawan, she had allowed sarcastic distractions to slip from her lips all as a part of her combat technique, attempting ways of unbalancing her master, to mentally trip him up and afford her an advantage. Not that it ever worked. Though he had encouraged her to make use of her environment and whatever techniques she could think of to gain an advantage in combat.
She’d never quite dared to flash her master, but she certainly had used the illicit technique against enemies since that time, and had taken full advantage of the moment of surprise and distraction. Usually in the form of an easy decapitation.
Urgently lifting and dropping herself on the turgid length of the General’s hardness, Ventress set about rolling her hips and bouncing the rock-solid muscles of her taut buttocks with increasing abandon, as she began chasing her own expanding balloon of intense erotic pleasure.
The mild rubbery creak of the mattress gave way to the increasingly loud and rapid slap of flesh on hard, well-trained flesh. Two lifelong physical combatants at the peak of their power, their fitness and strength, thoroughly going at it.
Well, at least Asajj was going at it. Kenobi lay, still mostly dormant, staring up at her, slack mouthed, as though still disbelieving. Amused, she found herself wondering if that was the universal facial expression of a first timer. Had she worn that same expression when she had given herself to that power station engineer, in order to take her revenge on the criminal scum who had murdered her master on Rattatak? She quickly shook herself free of that still painful memory, tying her focus instead on her rapidly expanding sexual pleasure, fed by the frictional sensations of Kenobi’s hot, pulsing cock stroking hotly against the clutching walls of her tunnel.
She belatedly became aware that, despite his efforts to engage in abject dormancy, Obi-Wan actually appeared to have begun working his hips in time to her intense gyrations. Only small, short jerking motions but very definite motions nonetheless. Perhaps it was deliberate or perhaps it was subconscious and incidental. She didn’t particularly care. It gave her the perfect counter-beat to time her own drop thrusts so she could meet him at the apex, to slam his crown hard against her womb, affording her that sharp pleasure-pain sensation.
She liked that and kept it up, dropping her hips harder and harder. She suddenly became aware of her own facial muscles, her expression. That her eyes were clenched shut, beaded tears clinging to the edge of her long lashes. Her lips were drawn back, pearly white teeth gnashed together. She must look feral. She certainly felt like it as she writhed atop the groaning Jedi, her own breaths snapping out of her throat in loud breathy gasps.
It seemed like the experience was finally drilling a little confidence and engagement in Kenobi, and he suddenly used his abdominals to lift his torso, so that he ended up sitting upright, face to face with Ventress. His hands finally released her aching breasts, freeing them to quiver and shake all across her sweat sheened chest, reacting animatedly to her trembling lustful excitement. His hands slid down to her sides and then around to grasp her solid buttocks, palming the hard globes while pressing his fingers inward with a ferocious grasp. It was the first real sign of his self-control slipping. She enjoyed it. And though rough, compared to just about every other sexual experience she had experienced, this was nothing. Just pleasurable.
Ventress could no longer focus on Kenobi’s face, her vision had become blurred by unshed tears, symptomatic of exertion and peaking sexual joy. Her entire view was of highlights and shadows in the dimly illuminated escape pod. The console lights becoming multicoloured stars against the gloom, obliterating the true stars beyond the cockpit’s viewport.
The orgasm struck her like a bomb; muscles first tensing, locking up, almost cramping. Then suddenly they were mechanically quivering, an automatic vibration responding to the instantaneous assailment of her natural high. Orgasmic euphoria overtaking her, blasting her senses alongside her physicality.
She vaguely felt the sudden burst of wetness, a concussive voiding from her heavily pulsating core. However, she was barely aware of it happening, lost in the out of body haze of sexual elation. That disembodied moment gave her a chance, perhaps imagined, perhaps through a subconscious search through the Force, to gaze down at herself and Kenobi.
She was writhing in his lap, his hands clenched white knuckled on her ass, barely hanging on. Her legs were splayed out beyond his hips, kicking, pummelling the mattress, her arms flailing, torso thrown back in an acute arch while her hips jerked and thrashed and her bald head rolled on her slender though powerful neck, then tossed suddenly backward. Her eyes were squeezed shut; her nostrils flared. While her mouth was thrown agape in a silent scream. And then she wasn’t silent. She was suddenly squealing out moans and curses in Zabrak, in Rattataki, and then incoherent nonsensical non-language. An embarrassing babble.
Meanwhile Kenobi looked simultaneously aghast and ecstatic. Perhaps he was approaching his own peak. Though he was holding on for dear life. Physically, onto her ass cheeks, while apparently also fighting off his impending climax. The Force-separated free-floating Ventress wondered why.
She snapped her long-lashed eyes wide open and was instantly back inside her body, though still very much lost within her own euphoria. Her body was still thrashing atop Kenobi’s lap, her own muscles continuing to quiver and flex without any outside influence other than the chemicals unleashed throughout her Zabrak brain. She felt shaky and hot and weak, and yet so, so good. It was indescribable, how good she felt in that moment.
And then all that ecstasy began to fade and it was almost heart breaking. She just wanted to live in that haze of euphoria. It was the best place in the galaxy.
She allowed herself to fall back, trusting the mattress to catch and support her. Obi-Wan followed her so that he was kneeling between her bandy-legged thighs laid out before him, momentarily his to do with as he pleased. And in that moment, she would have happily allowed him anything. Not that he would have taken advantage of her momentary subservience. He was perhaps the only man in the Galaxy she could trust not to.
Body flaccid, arms and legs akimbo, devoid of strength. Ventress panted, breathless, moaning lightly, still half swooning in the afterglow of her climax.
Like any one in his position, Kenobi continued to thrust his meat inside her, chasing his own euphoric ascent. She didn’t think twice about letting him use her lithe pale form to reach that summit. It was only fair. However, she did feel a sudden desire to witness his climax, she wanted to see that eruption, that pearlescent liquid volcano. Finding strength from who knew where, the Force she supposed, Ventress rolled her shoulders and hips and slid herself off his thrusting member.
Though, before he could voice a complaint, if he even would have, she was on her side facing him, one hand encircling the slick glistening root of his solid, Asajj-cum sodden shaft, jerking him hard with a ferocity that surprised her as much as him. His hips were gyrating, thrashing, and he was groaning a breathy yet guttural accompaniment.
And then he let out his own hoarse yell, throwing his head back, just like she had done. Lost in a timeless moment of ecstasy. She felt the tenseness in his cock, warmed ferrocrete ungiving yet still somehow pliant under her tight fist. That shaft tensed further still, thickening, the crown swelling visibly. And then it erupted, just as she had imagined it.
“Aahhhhhh!” Kenobi groaned.
The Jedi’s orgasmic eruption came as an undeniably impressive climactic burst. Multiple ropes of dense pressured creaminess, pearlescent and shooting vertically, high. A glimmering beautiful projectile. Then another and another. And more. The first gem-like glimmers actually struck the ceiling of the cockpit while the rest rained down, much of it onto Ventress’ taut chest and bald pate. A half dozen, viscous, warm splatters. Obi-Wan losing all strength, fell back across the mattress, his erection swinging in counter action, catapulting a couple of additional streamers into the ether. The remainder trickled then oozed out across his hard muscular stomach.
Ventress had watched the whole performance in a mix of awe and amusement. The feeling that she had been responsible for giving Kenobi that much pleasure, so much that his cum actually hit the ceiling, boggled her kind. Until recently a sworn enemy, a human male she had never found particularly intriguing or alluring; yet she had just fucked him so well his orgasm had stretched out to a length taller than the man himself. And of course, she was still well and truly basking in the afterglow of her own climax. And though, perhaps not the best of her life, it had certainly not been an experience to be taken lightly.
She felt weak and drained, though somehow giddy behind the exhaustion. Given a few seconds, the weakness would be replaced by a sense of re-energisation, she had no doubt.
She relaxed onto her sweat coated back for a moment, listening to Kenobi’s laboured, slightly hoarse breathing, his little nonsensical moans. Then she noted post-coital energy infused her limbs and she sat up. She propped herself with one locked arm, one leg upraised, knee bent, the elbow of her other arm balanced across her cocked knee. She looked down at the laid out General. There was a silly little half smile on his lips and he was staring blankly up at the ceiling, as though lost, somewhere outside of himself.
“I never realised it could be so…” He muttered suddenly.
She barely caught the comment. And in that moment Kenobi felt like a wonder-filled child to Ventress. And it was a strange thing to witness, bringing difficult emotions to mind. Things she could barely develop even a rudimentary concept of. Her assessment of his apparent mood, somewhere between a pleasant sweetness of youthful wonder, mingled with an unattractive even eye-rolling sense of the powerful Jedi General, ‘Hero of the Republic’, brought down to the form of an innocent, even immature, child in her eyes.
Ventress sat there watching him, feeling disturbed. She was half aware of her body coming down from the exertion, the effect of herself calming from the afterglow of her orgasm. Her heart rate and blood pressure evening out, her breathing slowing and deepening, the sweat coating her beginning to feel cold and uncomfortable. Eventually, Kenobi joined her, though he appeared much more docile, exhausted, slow and awkward movements, sleepy even.
For a while he wouldn’t look at her, and when he did it was to look her in the eye, obstinately avoiding her casual nakedness, the rise and fall of her breasts, nipples still stiffened, gleaming sweat still playing on parts of her, caught and highlighted by the overhead illumination. The gleam of her ever-watchful eyes. She flashed him a naturally sultry lop-sided smile, watching as he started slowly, almost painfully, reaching for his robes.
“We were meant to be dressing our wounds weren’t we, Kenobi?”
“We were indeed. We got rather distracted.”
He paused and looked over at her, eyebrows raised, a sudden return of the selfless helpful Jedi.
“You have more wounds that you can’t reach?” He asked.
“I may…”
“Let me see.”
“Okay, then I will help you with yours.”
For the second time it lasted all of a couple of minutes. Her elegant caressing of the bacta gel, had his erection quickly resurgent. He appeared half embarrassed, half excited. Ventress, hiding her own excitement, nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders then turned her attention to his erect cock.
She sucked him, first kneeling on the mattress then upright with his back against the bulkhead. It didn’t last, gently though firmly he pushed her away before she had emptied his balls, wanting to return the favour once more. Asajj was happy to oblige and they swapped positions. Asajj’s lithe back against the same oily, musty-smelling bulkhead panel. She lifted her legs one at a time and hooked her feet onto the broad muscular wedge of his shoulders and splayed her bent legs wide. Her upper back pressed to the bulkhead, squatting down to bring her bare, lust swollen crotch in line with his upturned face. He buried himself within that cum-oozing entrance and started to feast. Ventress ran her fingers through his hair, grabbing handfuls and pulling him closer into the heat of her throbbing pussy. He worked her to a breathless shuddering climax.
“Might this be an example of ‘a moment of madness’?” He said.
“More than a moment, I think.”
There was no delay. Climbing down from his shoulders and pushing off the bulkhead, she pulled the crouched General to his feet. Leaning her shoulders against that same bulkhead again, she stood on one leg and lifted the other up high toes toward the ceiling, opening herself for him, offering him full access. It took only a glance to assure herself that his shaft was still more or less fully hard. Certainly hard enough.
He stepped up, smoothly planting her uplifted leg against one shoulder and pressing his body tight against hers, pushing her into a vertical-splits. While he positioned her, she positioned him, grasping his spongey pliant meat firmly and lodging it into tunnel entrance.
The Jedi thrust deep into Ventress. His confidence and self-assuredness were plainly advanced compared to his first time. He buried himself to the root, pressing his entire torso firmly against hers, putting a stretch onto that impressive split. As the General pushed his hips firmly at hers, grinding into her, forcing his embedded shaft against her core, their mouths slammed together in another mutually hungry, heated kiss. At the same time both their hands mirrored on each other’s bodies, palms cupping taut muscular buttocks, fingers pressing into the hard yet pliable flesh. Both were squeezing and fondling with lusty vigour.
He pinned her, chest to chest against the wall, gripping her ass cheeks tightly so he could thrust hard between them, while Asajj stretched out her calf muscle, lifting herself onto the ball of her foot, simultaneously dropping herself onto his upthrust. Reading his rhythm perfectly. Bouncing herself on his throbbing hardness. She teased him as he stared into her eyes, trying to knock him off his stride.
“Are you thinking about Kryze, Kenobi? You picturing me as her?”
“Shut up Ventress.” He grunted. “Take this.”
Grimacing, possibly in halfway-stomped down embarrassment, he increased his pace and fervour until she could no longer match him with her one footed tiptoe humping. It was getting hot and intense and she relaxed, enjoying it, feeling her own fluid flowing out of her, coating both of their noisily clapping together pubic bones. She tightened her grip on the impressive, blocky slabs of his hard buttocks, digging her nails in, giving him spanking slaps of encouragement.

They stared into each other’s eyes, as they fucked. Asajj released her grip of his buttocks. She stroked upward along the pronounced sweep of his spine, digging her nails in again, making him growl slightly. Aggression rising. She reached out casually, curiously, through the Force to assess the degree of emotion, and was surprisingly relieved to find his remained under tight control, the apparent aggression was just lust, there was no anger, no frustration or anything resembling sadism. He was just reacting with lust to her increasingly harsh touch.
She brought her hands to his face, one encircling his corded throat, the other smoothing his sweat sheened face. She slapped his cheek, a sharp loud concussion. He growled, eyes burning into hers, and thrusting harder still. There was no sign of heightened anger through the Force. She raked her nails down his face, pulled at the soft beard growth. However, she kept it playfully provocative, not leaving raked welts or drawing blood. She didn’t want to actually corrupt the General. A year or two ago, perhaps she would have enjoyed the prospect, the challenge of destroying his goodness. But not any longer. She was not that person any more. Though it had really taken this close and intimate time with her once sworn enemy to recognise that past suspicion.
And there was nothing in Kenobi, nothing emanating from him but the joy of the physical pleasure in this act of pseudo-procreation.
And then came an almighty explosion as the both of them rode each other to another huge, this time synchronised climax. His seed jetted into her core, bathing her and sending her already flooded pleasure centres breaking through to a higher plane of bliss.

“We still have plenty of time, Kenobi. When you have recovered, I’d be open to going at it again…”
“I’m not entirely sure it would be wise. Though, I have to admit, the temptation is… arresting.”
“Worried you’re about to fall in love with this little Dathomiri Nightsister?”
“Ah, no. I don’t feel that is much of a concern…”
“Then take me… Obi-Wan.”
Asajj led her momentary lover back to the mattress. She pressed Kenobi down onto it and onto his back so that she could ride him, just like that first time. Though on this occasion she didn’t let up using all of her prodigious stamina and energies to ride him hard and fast, right the way through to mutual ecstasy. Though she made him beg for it.
When he got too close, she backed away. She slid herself off him, shuffling forward a little so his hot shaft slapped against her buttocks, to leak pre-cum onto her sweaty flesh. Both of them panting, basking in mutual pleasure, staring into each other's eyes.
At the end she took up an animalistic position, on her elbows and knees, offering him her shapely buttocks and the succulent, weeping fruit between them. Staring back at him over her shoulder, hot and hungry she offered him her invitation. He didn’t hesitate.

They ended up having sex again and again, before their shared pleasure was brought to an impromptu close by a frustrating interruption, the main console’s proximity alarm rudely alerting them to the rapid approach of the conclusion of their temporarily illicit relationship.
Though she did not speak of it, Asajj felt the loss of Kenobi as they wiped themselves down, finished applying the bacta, no longer particularly necessary, and then dressed and awaited the approaching Raydonian transport as it made its approach to dock with their rear airlock.
In fact, they didn’t not speak again from the time they docked with the rescue ship, to be escorted down to the closest space port, to the time they parted company to head back to their own sides of the warring Galaxy.
<><><>
“So, which was better, for you? Dominant or equal partner?” Ahsoka asked. “Which was more to your taste?”
“Do you really need to ask? Though I must concede, that time with your master’s master was certainly… memorable.”
Ahsoka deduced, from Ventress’ tone, that she wanted the conversation to be over and done with. They were out of their little homeless-den hiding place and the Zabrak was, as agreed, leading the young Togruta through the sub levels of Coruscant’s central district.
Ventress had looked about them from inside their hiding place, as though gauging the light quality and then with a little sigh, had started to wriggle herself back toward the entrance of the box they had been hiding inside. The wriggling had proved interesting for Ahsoka, as the bald woman’s body had pressed against her own numerous times in numerous intriguing places, which had triggered little surprising sparks of pleasure for the Togruta. Though apparently, there had been nothing of the kind for Ventress.
She had backed out of their shared shelter and risen to her full height. As Ahsoka had followed her lead, the Zabrak had placed herself a metre away, staring back at the entrance to the little alley as she stretched up onto her tiptoes, and reached for the sky with both hands, stretching impossibly while she worked the aches and kinks out of her lithe body. By the time Ahsoka had stretched out her own kinks and worked the slightly numbed muscles of her head tails, Ventress had clipped her mask-helm back into position, though she kept the full-face visor flipped up.
The Togruta had continued to make remarks and ask questions but the answers that came back had become less and less complete, then they started to devolve through cryptic replies and finally short, one-word answers. It was as though a veil of the ‘Ventress’ she had been before their intimate conversation had been brought back down hard. Once again, she was presenting herself as aloof, untrusting and sarcastic. More like the Ventress Ahsoka was more familiar with.
Still, the ex-Sith assassin appeared to be keeping up her side of their bargain. She had led Ahsoka surreptitiously from level to level, keeping them mostly out of sight, until they found their way onto level Thirteen-Fifteen.
Bariss Offee had shared her findings reporting that the munitions warehouse was one location Letta had visited that connected her to the nanodroids that had turned her own husband into the living bomb that had killed so many in the Jedi Temple. It was her best and really, only hope of clearing her name.

It was recognisably darker on level Thirteen-Fifteen, the residual main power flow barely reaching their depth or this part of the capital world, leaving only a small number of street lamps illuminated. Again, they remained on side-thoroughfares and alleys. And very little was spoken between them, the odd warning, the occasional observation or comment. The odd snide comment about Ahsoka’s privileged upbringing in the Jedi Temple up on the surface level.
They emerged from a filthy alleyway, a rotted corpse that might once have been a Rodian smeared across the ground and up the wall of one building, adding its own acrid gag-inducing aroma to the putrescence already surrounding them. Turning right at the end of the alley brought them onto a walkway that was barely wider. At the end of the walkway came a ruddy glow.
Both women had their Force augmented senses extended around them, like active scanners but it was obvious there was no one around. The occasional Scurrier fleeing from a small gathering of Tookas who were giving chase. There was the occasional call of a Mynock somewhere above them, but there didn’t seem to be any sentients around at all.
The red glow came with a thick smoggy vapour that idled casually upwards toward the surface of the planet, far far above them.
“There it is.” Ventress said. “That’s where you’re supposed to find this clue.”
The two women came to a halt in front of an old, half collapsed security fence that surrounded the warehouse in question. At first glance, it looked like nothing more than a stack of tacked together panelling and hastily erected scaffold. But apparently Ventress was certain that this was the abandoned munitions warehouse in question.
“I’ve done my part of the bargain, which means you’re on your own from here.”
The Zabrak came around the rear of the young Togruta, unclipping Ahsoka’s remaining lightsaber from her own fabric utility belt. She came back to Ahsoka’s side on her left, offering the young ex-padawan her Jedi weapon.
“But don’t forget you have to speak on my behalf now. That was the deal.”
“Agreed.” Ahsoka said.
She took back her lightsaber, a minor revelation hitting her as to how naked she had actually felt without it. The sensation threw up a momentary concern about attachment, but she cast that aside quickly. That was her Jedi thinking and she was no longer a member of the Order. And, really, would she suffer the pull of the Dark side from the loss of a simple tool? She didn’t think so.
Through pure muscle memory she clipped the hilt to the receiver on her belt, half aware through the Force of the tiny vibration of the receiver’s power cell providing charge to the hilt’s own charging cells. Her attention never wavered from Ventress or from what she was saying.

“Thanks for getting me this far at least… I have to admit, I never saw us doing anything together… ever.”
“These are strange times.” Ventress conceded.
Without so much as a look or comment of farewell, Ventress turned her back on the young Togruta and departed from the area of the warehouse. She didn’t even look back, not once, just loped off with that dangerous, lightweight feline gait of hers. Ahsoka felt strangely saddened to be left alone once more. But then she turned her attention to the warehouse. Somewhere in there was the clue that she believed would absolutely clear her name and get her life back on track.
She needed to put all of this behind her.
She had to get back to the Order. Her master needed her, as did her Clone friends and comrades in arms.
She had a war to win.
The End.
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Asajj Ventress’ Sub-Dom Adventures.