Chapter 9: The Lady, Commodore and Mand’alor
The chamber beyond the durasteel door was already humid with anticipation—braziers along the mosaic walls casting undulating golden light across Mandalorian history and onto the pale stone floor, where a trail of discarded clothing led away from Caliburn’s armor stand. He worked his way out of his tunic, muscles flexing beneath the scars and lines of battle, only to turn and nearly forget how to breathe at the sight that awaited him near the bed.
Ar’alani and Maeve stood shoulder to shoulder, a tableau of raw, predatory seduction against the old tales of Mandalore. Ar’alani’s tall, powerful body was adorned in a set of glimmering silver lingerie—the cups of her bra were half-transparent mesh, silver-threaded and so sheer the deep blue of her skin seemed to glow through, twin bands of fine lace crossing between her full, violet-tipped breasts, barely containing their generous roundness. The bra’s underwire gleamed, metal kissed with Mandalorian sigils, pushing her bust up until she looked fit to spill from it with every breath. The g-string beneath was more suggestion than garment, a whisp of silver mesh that hugged her hips so tight it seemed painted on, dipping between the smooth swells of her thighs and framing her firm, sculpted ass, the straps riding high to showcase the flex of her athletic glutes. Tiny silver clasps, stamped with Chiss family glyphs, joined at her hips. Garters swept down from her hips, catching at the tops of thigh-high, smoky-sheer stockings, the dark silk tight over muscle and ending in delicate, armored silver bands above her knees. A single silver choker hugged her throat, stamped with Caliburn’s sigil—a silent, lewd claim.
Maeve, in gold, was an explosion of debauched royalty—her bra a band of gleaming gold lamé, the material molded tight over the crimson swell of her f-cup breasts, cut so low the deep valley of her cleavage yawned with every slow inhale. The cups left little to the imagination, cut high and sharp so the underside of her breasts spilled out, a golden chain draping from each cup, catching the light and swaying as she breathed. The matching g-string was an obscene masterpiece, a triangle of gold mesh with filigree edges and an open lattice that showed the pale gleam of her skin beneath—so narrow it vanished between the perfect roundness of her ass, each hip caught in gold rings from which delicate golden tassels hung, swinging with every motion. Her thighs were wrapped in golden bands, tiny Sith runes glimmering against crimson flesh, while a matching collar graced her neck—broad, heavy, and marked with a single black gem at the hollow of her throat, promising everything and nothing all at once.
The two women stalked toward Caliburn with matching feline grace, hips rolling, thighs flexing, their busts bouncing with every deliberate step, hunger burning in every movement. Ar’alani’s voice was deep, velvet and wicked as she grinned at him. “You know, beloved, I think it’s only fair you get a proper Mandalorian homecoming tonight. I’ve been aching for days—maybe we see if Maeve here can survive being tag-teamed by real warriors?”
Maeve’s molten gaze drank him in, her lips parting with a low, breathy laugh as she pressed herself to Ar’alani’s side, the gold and silver of their lingerie tangled together. “Oh, I can take anything you two dish out. I haven’t been properly fucked in a thousand years—I want to feel those hands all over me, Mand’alor. Show me what made the galaxy afraid of you.”
Caliburn gave a growl, rolling his shoulders, his eyes shamelessly devouring every inch of both women. “That’s a challenge if I ever heard one, Sith Lady. Don’t expect mercy—you asked to be ruined, and that’s exactly what you’ll get.” His hands slid out, grasping first Ar’alani’s firm, round ass through the mesh, squeezing the muscle until she gasped, then moving to Maeve, his fingers sinking into the velvet-red swell beneath the gold mesh. Both women laughed, hips bucking against his palms, chests pressing against his bare torso.
Ar’alani leaned in, voice wickedly low, lips grazing Caliburn’s ear as her thigh pushed between his. “You want to see her break, beloved? Watch me put her on her knees and make her beg before you even lay a finger on her. I’ll have her screaming so loud the guards outside will start running bets.”
Maeve, emboldened, caught Caliburn’s jaw in her golden-tipped fingers and crushed her body to his, letting her chest flatten against his with a wicked grind. “Careful, Vizsla—if you start this, you better finish it. Or I’ll tie you down and ride you until you beg for your own gods.”
Caliburn smirked, licking his lips as he let himself be pressed toward the bed. “You two are all talk. Prove it.” He landed on the edge of the wide bed, the two women closing on him like hungry predators. Ar’alani straddled his lap, the silver mesh of her thong pressed obscenely against his thigh, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as her bust swelled into his face. “You’re ours tonight, mesh’la. Don’t think we’ll let you off easy—Maeve and I have been planning this since we saw you sparring in nothing but those little shorts. I nearly dragged you off the training mat then and there.”
Maeve clambered up behind Ar’alani, sliding her arms around both, breasts pressed to Ar’alani’s back, her hands drifting over both their bodies. Her gold-clad chest brushed Caliburn’s face as she leaned over to whisper, her voice thick and sultry. “I can’t wait to see you two try to break me. Maybe I’ll break you instead—make you beg for release.” She dragged her tongue slowly along Ar’alani’s neck, nipping at the silver choker, then whispered, “Let’s see how much noise a Mandalorian soul mate can make when she’s got a Sith and her lover pinning her down.”
Ar’alani’s response was to slam her mouth to Maeve’s in a heated, wet kiss, their tongues dueling as Caliburn’s hands roamed up their bodies—palming Ar’alani’s ass, kneading Maeve’s hips, feeling muscle and softness blend beneath his fingers. He bit out a challenge, his voice low and coarse, “You both talk too much. Maybe I should stuff those filthy mouths just to hear you moan instead.”
Maeve arched back, hair tumbling in wild copper waves. “Try it, Mand’alor. I promise, you’ll never want us to stop.” Their bodies tangled, gold and silver mesh glimmering, strong thighs clamped tight around Caliburn as Ar’alani and Maeve pressed their tits to his chest.
He could feel their hearts pounding, their breath hot and ragged on his skin. He reached up, fingers tangling in their hair, pulling them closer, his mouth finding first Ar’alani’s, then Maeve’s, his tongue plunging deep, tasting them, feeling their moans vibrate against his lips.
Ar'alani's hands were everywhere, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, her nails scraping against his skin, leaving red welts in their wake. She pulled back, her eyes locked onto his, a wicked smile playing on her lips.
"You want to stuff our mouths, Caliburn? Then you better have something big enough to fill them." She reached down, her hand wrapping around his cock, her fingers barely meeting as she stroked him. "Because I know you're packing."
Caliburn groaned, his hips bucking into her touch. You're playing with fire."
She chuckled, low and sultry. "I know. And I love it."
Maeve leaned in, her voice a low purr. "I want to taste him, Ar'alani. I want to feel him in my mouth."
Ar'alani's eyes flashed with a mix of hunger and possession.
"Then you better get to work, Sith Lady. But remember, you're not the only one who wants a taste." She pushed Maeve's head down, guiding her towards Caliburn's cock. "Show him what you've got, Maeve. Show him why you're so eager to be broken."
Maeve didn't need to be told twice. She sank to her knees, her thick, rich auburn streaked with copper and rose-gold hair cascading around her face as she leaned in as she also pulls his pants down.
Her molten gaze locked onto his, her lips parting, tongue flicking out to wet them as she took in the sight of his cock, thick and hard, straining against the confines of his pants. "Fuck, Mand'alor," she breathed, her voice a low, sultry purr. "Ar’alani told me what you had but seeing it is a different than hearing about it.”
Caliburn smirked as he raised an eyebrow while looking at Ar’alai as he says “Oh and what to me blue skin succubi of a soul mate say?” Ar’alani laughs before saying, “ I told Maeve that your a perfect Thirteen inches long, seven inches thick. Stamina that puts droids to shame—dozens of loads, no slowing down, no mercy. And that she hopefully like being bred, because she’ll be leaking and trembling for days, your body marked with bruises and love bites and my handprints. And that she won’t be alone—when I join in, she’ll beg us to stop, and we still won’t.” Her voice was a low, sultry growl, her eyes locked onto his, a wicked smile playing on her lips.
Maeve’s eyes widened, her breath hitching as she looked from Ar’alani to Caliburn, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Those word the words and I hope you can live up to it Caliburn.” Maeve said, her voice a low purr. She reached out, her fingers tracing the length of his cock through the fabric, feeling the heat and hardness beneath. “Because I’m ready to be broken, Mand’alor. I want to feel every inch of you, stretching me, filling me, making me scream your name.”
Caliburn’s smirk widened into a grin, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “You’re going to need more than words, Sith Lady. I’m going to need to see you take it.
All of it." His voice was a low growl, his eyes locked onto hers, daring her to back down. Maeve's response was to lean in, her tongue flicking out to lick a long, slow stripe up the length of his cock through the fabric, her eyes never leaving his. She could feel him twitch against her tongue, hear his breath catch in his throat. "You're playing a dangerous game, lady Sith," he ground out, his hips bucking slightly as she licked him again. "I could make you choke on it." Maeve just smiled, her eyes gleaming with challenge. "I hope you do.
I've been craving a challenge for centuries." Maeve's voice was a low, sultry purr as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of Caliburn's pants, her nails scraping against his skin as she slowly pulled them down, revealing the thick, hard length of him. She looked up at him, her molten gaze locked onto his, her lips parting as she took him in. "Fuck, Mand'alor. You're even bigger than I imagined."
Caliburn chuckled, a low, rumbling sound in his chest as he watched Maeve's reaction. "You talk a big game.
I'll see how long you can keep it up," Caliburn taunted, his voice a low growl as he watched Maeve's eyes widen at the sight of his cock. He could feel the heat of her gaze, the anticipation in the air, and it sent a jolt of electricity through his veins. He reached down, his fingers tangling in Maeve's rich, copper hair, pulling her head back until she was looking up at him, her molten red eyes locked onto his.
"Don't worry, Mand'alor. I can handle anything you throw at me," Maeve replied, her voice steady and confident.
She leaned in, her tongue darting out to lick the head of his cock, a slow, deliberate swipe that had Caliburn's breath catching in his throat. "In fact, I hope you do. I want to feel every inch of you, Mand'alor. I want to taste you, to feel you stretching me, filling me, making me scream your name."
Caliburn's grip on her hair tightened, his hips bucking slightly as she took the head of his cock into her mouth, her lips stretching wide around his girth. "Fuck, Maeve," he groaned, his head falling back as he felt the heat of her mouth envelop him.
His fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her rhythm, his hips thrusting forward just slightly to encourage her. "You're going need to try a lot harder than that for I’m barely filling anything from your blow job.” Caliburn taunted, his voice a low growl as he watched Maeve's eyes widen at the sight of his cock.
His fingers tightened in her hair, pulling her head back just enough to make her whimper. "You're going to need to take all of me, Maeve. Every fucking inch." His gaze flicked to Ar’alani, who was watching them with a knowing smirk and a hungry glint in her red eyes. "And if she can't handle it, then you'll have to take care of her, won't you, love?"
Ar’alani’s voice was a low, sultry purr. "Oh, I can take care of her, Cal. But I want to watch you snap the collar around her neck by fucking her skull nice and rough!” Ar’alani’s voice was a low, dangerous whisper, her fingers already trailing down Maeve’s spine, her nails leaving faint, white lines along the crimson skin. She pressed her lips to Maeve’s ear, her breath hot and heavy, “I want to see you choke on his cock while I fuck you from behind, my fingers buried deep in your pussy, stretching you open for him.” Maeve’s breath hitched, her body trembling against Caliburn’s, her molten gaze flicking between the two of them. “You’re both so cruel,” she breathed, her voice a mix of defiance and desire.
“But I’ll take everything you give me. I want to feel you both, filling me, using me, making me yours.”
Caliburn’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “We’ll see about that, Sith Lady. Ar’alani, why don’t you help her get ready for me?”
Ar'alani's eyes flashed with hunger as she pushed Maeve back onto the bed, straddling her hips, her silver-clad breasts heaving with anticipation. "Oh, I'll help her alright," she purred, her fingers trailing down Maeve's body, catching in the gold mesh of her g-string. She leaned down, her voice a low growl in Maeve's ear.
"You're going to need to be nice and wet for him, aren't you? I don't want him to hurt you—well, not too much." Her fingers hooked into the gold mesh, pulling it aside, her eyes locked onto Maeve's as she slowly slid her fingers between her thighs, feeling the heat and wetness already gathering there. "Fuck, you're already soaking, aren't you? You're eager for this, aren't you, you filthy Sith slut?"
Maeve's breath hitched, her hips bucking against Ar'alani's touch, her eyes locked onto Caliburn's as he watched, his cock still hard and ready in his hand.
"You're so wet already, Sith," Ar'alani whispered, her fingers gliding through Maeve's slick folds, her voice dripping with a dark promise. "I can feel how much you want this. How much you want us to ruin you."
Maeve moaned, her fingers clenching the sheets beneath her as Ar'alani's fingers slid deeper, circling her clit with slow, deliberate strokes. "Yes," she breathed, her voice thick with desire. "I want it. I want you both."
Caliburn stepped closer as one hands grabs her hair in a tight fist as his over hands rubs his cock against her mouth. “I’m not fucking your holes till I snap the choker by fucking your throat Sith slut.” Caliburn growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble as he watched Ar'alani's fingers work Maeve's pussy, her hips bucking against the touch. He leaned in, his hand tangling in her hair, pulling her head back until she was looking up at him, her molten gaze locked onto his. "You're going to need to earn that, Maeve. You're going to need to take every inch of me, and you're going to need to do it without choking or gagging. Can you handle that, Sith Lady?"
Maeve's breath hitched, her eyes flashing with defiance and desire. "I can handle anything you throw at me, Mand'alor.
I've faced down armies and ancient Sith Lords—your cock is nothing compared to that." Maeve's voice was steady, her gaze unwavering as she stared up at Caliburn, her lips parting slightly to reveal the glint of her teeth.
Caliburn chuckled, a low, rumbling sound in his chest. "Big words from a little Sith. We'll see about that." He guided the head of his cock to her lips, rubbing it gently against the soft flesh. "Open up, Maeve.
Show me how you swallow a Mandalorian cock." Caliburn's voice was a low growl, his eyes locked onto hers as he watched her lips part, her tongue flicking out to wet them. She took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving his as she leaned forward, her lips wrapping around the head of his cock, her tongue swirling around it, tasting the salty pre-cum that had already gathered there.
Caliburn groaned, his hips bucking slightly as she took him deeper, her lips stretching wide around his girth. "Fuck, Maeve," he groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair, guiding her rhythm.