Chapter 6: The Silent Invasion
The guest quarters Baylan gave me were a tomb of cold steel and silence. A narrow bed hugged one wall, the sheets smelling of industrial cleaner, and a small viewport showed the forest canopy far below, dark and tangled in the last light of a dying sun. I'd showered twice since the medical bay, scrubbing the oil and the shame from my skin, but I still felt the ghost of their hands on me.
I wore the red nightshirt they'd provided, thin as parchment, and the plain cotton panties that fit too loosely. My bra was still damp from the shower, so I'd left it off, and the cool air of the room kept my nipples hard, a constant reminder of how exposed I was in enemy territory.
Sleep came in uneasy waves. Every creak of the fortress's ancient bones snapped me awake, hand reaching for a saber that wasn't there. They'd taken mine. Baylan had it in his study, I was sure, displayed like a trophy.
When exhaustion finally dragged me under, it was a shallow, restless thing.
The click of the door woke me.
Not a creak. A deliberate, silent release of the latch. Someone had disabled the locking mechanism.
I went rigid under the sheets, every muscle tensing, breath held, ears straining. The footfalls were feather-light, but I'd trained to hear them. Shin. I knew her step now, knew the predator's patience in the way she moved.
I didn't move. Didn't reach for a weapon. There was nothing to reach for.
The lights stayed off. The darkness was absolute, the viewport the only source of faint gray light. I heard her approach the bed, heard the leather of her gloves creak as she stopped beside me.
"Awake, little Togruta?" she whispered, her voice a silken thread in the dark.
I stayed still, forcing my breathing even.
She chuckled softly. "I know you are. But that's fine. It's better this way."
Warm rope touched my left wrist. I had time to tense, to wonder if I could throw her off, but she had the Force, and I was still exhausted from Baylan's interrogation. Before I could move, she looped the rope, cinched it tight, and yanked my arm above my head.
"Don't struggle," she murmured, binding the rope to a metal ring I hadn't noticed embedded in the headboard. "You'll only make it harder on yourself."
"Let me go," I gritted, but my voice came out raw, hoarse.
She ignored me, moving to my other wrist. I could have fought. I should have fought. But I was so goddamn tired, and my body still ached from the medical table, and the fear of what they'd do if I resisted had burrowed deep into my bones.
She bound my ankles to rings at the foot of the bed, spreading my legs just enough that I felt the air against my skin through the thin cotton of the nightshirt. I now lay spread-eagle on the bed, wrists and ankles secured, only the loose panties and the flimsy nightshirt offering any semblance of modesty.
"If you're good," Shin said, patting my hip, "I'll make sure he's gentle."
She was gone before I could respond. The door clicked shut behind her.
I tested the ropes. They were knots Baylan must have taught her. Tight, professional, impossible to slip without equipment. I flexed my wrists, strained against the bindings, and felt the rope bite into my skin. No give.
Fuck.
I lay there, heart pounding, listening to the silence of the fortress. Minutes passed. Maybe an hour. My shoulders began to ache from the position, and I'd started to drift, lulled by the low hum of the fortress's systems.
Then the door opened again.
Not Shin's step. Heavier. Deliberate. A presence that filled the room even before I saw him.
Baylan Skoll.
He didn't say a word. I heard him cross the room, heard the whisper of his dark robes against the floor, and then the bed dipped as he crawled onto it, settling between my bound legs.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended, a blade born of fear.
His hands found my thighs. Warm, broad palms that slid up my skin, pushing the nightshirt higher. "Patience," he said, his voice that same calm, paternal tone he'd used in the medical bay. "You gave me your word that you'd cooperate. I intend to hold you to it."
"I agreed to cooperate with your plans, not to-"
"Sh," he hushed me, hands sliding higher, thumbs brushing the crease where my thigh met my hip. "You'll find that cooperation means what I say it means."
His fingers found the elastic of the loose panties, and he traced the line of them, slow and lazy, like he had all the time in the world. I gritted my teeth, strained against the ropes, and felt the heat of his body between my legs.
"You've been through so much today," he murmured, so soothing, so cruel. "I thought I'd give you a gentler night. A chance to rest. To understand your place here."
"I know my place," I spat. "It's not in your bed."
"Mmm." He leaned down, and I felt his breath on my inner thigh. "We'll see."
A strip of cloth pressed against my lips. Before I could turn my head, he'd shoved a gag into my mouth, a soft, thick fabric that tasted of dust and something chemical, and tied it tight. I yelled, but the sound came out muffled, a pathetic whimper behind the cloth.
"Better," he said. "Less noise."
Then a fold of dark silk came down over my eyes, blocking out even the faint gray light of the viewport. Blind and gagged, I lay in total darkness, the silence of the room pressing in around me. I could hear my own heart hammering. Could feel the sweat breaking out on my skin.
His hands revisited my thighs, and this time they were bolder. He worked the nightshirt up my body, until I felt the cool air of the room against my stomach, my breasts, my arms still bound above my head. He pulled it over my head, and I was naked from the waist up, my breasts heavy and exposed.
A warm trickle of oil landed between my collarbones. I gasped behind the gag, the shock of it spreading as he poured more, a slow river of viscous warmth that pooled in the valley of my chest and ran down my ribs. He set the bottle aside and pressed his palms to my breasts, still covered by the damp bra I'd left on, and began to work the oil into the fabric.
"Such beautiful curves," he said, almost reverently. "Shin was right about you."
He shook my tits in the bra, his palms pressing and lifting, working the oil through the thin fabric. The bra was soaked through now, clinging to every contour of my chest, my nipples aching as the wet fabric dragged across them. I wanted to hate it. I wanted to scream. But my body, the treacherous thing, was already responding, my skin prickling with heat, my nipples hardening further.
His hands dropped lower, finding the waistband of the panties, but instead of removing them, he grabbed the leggings I'd discarded earlier, folded on a chair by the bed. I'd left the tight gray leggings there after my shower, and he retrieved them, dragging them up my legs until the fabric was pressed flat against the crotch of my panties.
"There," he said, adjusting the leggings, pressing them against my cunt hard enough that I felt the seam of the panties bite into my folds. "A sight to behold."
He was making me a camel toe, the fabric of the panties and the leggings pressed together and shaping my shaven pussy into a perfect, obscene outline. Every ridge and curve of my slit was visible now, the playtex of it pressing obscenely against my skin. He traced the outline with one finger, a feather-light touch that made me jerk against the ropes.
So wet. I could feel the moisture seeping through the fabric, coating the leggings, making the cloth cling even tighter. My body was betraying me, responding to his touch despite everything. I couldn't see him, but I could imagine his smile.
He tugged the leggings down, sliding them off my legs, leaving me in just the soaked panties. He gave the fabric a light tap, and I felt my folds shift, a sticky, shameful sound.
"Look at you," he murmured. "So wet for me already."
He slid the panties down, oh-so-slowly, uncovering the curve of my hips first, then the thatch of dark curls at the base of my mound, then the naked lips of my pussy, shaved smooth and glistening. The air hit my wet skin, and I shivered, the last shred of modesty peeling away with the fabric.
I felt him lean back, felt his eyes on me. Blind and gagged, spread-eagle on a stranger's bed, my body on display.
Then the press of his hand against my bra clasp. I hadn't expected it. Hadn't registered that he was still touching my bra. He used the Force, a subtle push, and the clasp gave way, the straps sliding off my shoulders, the soaked fabric falling aside.
My breasts spilled out, oiled and bare, and I couldn't help the muffled gasp behind the gag. The cool air hit them, sharp and electric, and my nipples tightened into hard, aching buds.
"Beautiful," he breathed.
The door opened again. "You called, master?"
Shin's voice. I'd know it anywhere.
"Come here," Baylan said. "She's ready."
I heard her footsteps approach, heard her stop beside the bed. Then her hands were on my tits, and I flinched, trying to twist away, but the ropes held me fast.
"I thought you said she'd been obedient," Shin said, a playful lilt in her voice. She squeezed one of my breasts, and a glob of oil oozed between her fingers. "She's a mess."
"Then clean her up," Baylan said, amusement in his tone.
Shin's palm cracked across my breast, a sharp slap that made me gasp behind the gag. "Mm," she hummed, massaging the sting away. "You like that, don't you? Being handled. Being used."
I shook my head, but she slapped the other breast, harder this time. The impact rippled through my body, and I felt the heat rush to my cunt, a shameful ache that I couldn't deny.
"Stop," I tried to say, but the gag turned it into a pathetic mumble.
She didn't stop. She groped my tits, rubbing the oil into them in slow, deliberate circles, occasionally slapping them, watching them bounce. I could feel Baylan's hands between my legs, spreading my thighs wider, and the blunt head of his cock nudging at my wet slit.
Even through the oil and the arousal, I felt the size of him. My hips tensed, and he pushed, just barely, just the tip, and then held still.
"Take a breath, little one," he murmured.
I had no choice. I gasped for air through the gag, and he pushed the rest of the way in, a long, slow slide that filled me completely. Behind the blindfold, my eyes went wide. I'd known it was his cock teasing at my entrance, but the sudden fullness of it, the stretch of my walls around his thick girth, caught me off guard.
Shin laughed, a low, knowing sound. "She didn't know you were inside her."
"I'm aware."
He pulled out, almost all the way, and then slammed back in. The impact jolted my body, making my oiled breasts jump. Shin caught one, squeezed it, and slapped it mid-bounce.
Another stroke. Another. The rhythm built fast, brutally efficient, with no romance, no patience. He fucked me like I was a toy, a vessel for his pleasure, while Shin played with my tits like they were hers to claim.
The wet sounds filled the room. The slap of his thighs against mine, the squelch of his cock driving into my soaked cunt, the muffled moans escaping around the gag no matter how hard I tried to contain them.
"You're so tight," Baylan grunted, the calm facade cracking slightly. "Full of fury. I can feel it in you."
He drove deeper, angled against a spot that made my hips buck, and I came with a muffled scream, my cunt clenching around him, milking him while he kept thrusting.
Shin watched my face, leaned in close. "There she is," she whispered. "There's the obedient little thing I knew was in there."
I hated them. I hated how good it felt. I hated myself for feeling it.
Baylan kept fucking me, rough and steady, my orgasm only making him grow harder, thicker. He rode me through it and into the next one, while Shin pressed her thumb against my clit, circling the slick pearl, sending sparks of sensation through my core.
The second orgasm hit like a wave. I arched against the ropes, my whole body trembling, and he followed me over the edge, buried deep, his cock pulsing inside me as he came with a low, satisfied groan.
For a moment, the only sound was my ragged breathing and the distant hum of the fortress.
Then Baylan withdrew, the loss of him leaving me feeling hollow and empty. The soiled red nightshirt lay crumpled at my feet. He said nothing as he left the room, his footsteps growing distant.
Shin stayed. She traced a hand up my thigh, over my hip, and up to my chin, lifting my head. She pulled the blindfold up, just enough that I could see her face, her cold eyes glittering with amusement.
"You did beautifully," she said. "He'll want to use you again. And I'll be there to watch."
She kissed my cheek, soft and almost tender, then lowered the blindfold and slipped away.
The door clicked shut. I lay in the darkness, spread-eagle on the bed, gagged, blindfolded, bound, and soaked in their fluids, the ropes cutting into my wrists, the taste of defeat bitter on my tongue.
And somewhere deep inside me, where the Togruta warrior still lived, I felt something other than shame.
I felt rage.