'Would you care for a drink?'
He steps to a sideboard, splashes amber liquid into a couple of glasses. Raises one to his lips.
She shakes her head mutely as he lets his gaze travel slowly down her form. Her dress is clinging with rain, transparent in places where it sticks to her skin underneath. Eyes cast down, wet and shivering in the middle of his living room, he considers how much it has cost her to come here tonight. That knocking on his door was, in itself, an act of submission. Luke sips at his whisky & smiles to himself.
'Take off your dress' he orders, and has to mask his surprise when she complies without hesitation. He walks in a slow circle, appraising her from all angles as she lifts it over her head, bunches it up in her hands. Sees the shiver run over her spine and goosebumps spring up down her arms. Wonders if it's the cold of the rain or the heat of his gaze.
'A few ground rules', he says, half smiling, stopping still just in front of her. He's still a few strides distant from where she stands, cold & vulnerable in damp underwear, her hair dripping steadily onto his carpet.
'You won't call me master. Use my name or call me Sir - there is to be no confusion with my academy role.'
She swallows and nods.
'Do whatever I tell you, and you'll get what you need. Disobey and I'll keep you wanting. You'll need a safe word - and I want you to tell me your hard limits now.'
She looks up at this, askance, like a startled jawa in speeder lights.
"Limits?" she says, and then quickly - "I don't have any." He quirks a eyebrow, and she drops her gaze down. "I never really have much of a choice" she offers, and then he's right by her, lifting her chin with one firm, decisive finger.
'You always have a choice', he says, eyes locking onto hers. 'Every time you come to me, whenever I touch you, you are making a choice. One word - let's go with 'hyperdrive' - aloud or through the Force, & I'll make it all stop. Understand?'
She hesitates, and he frowns.
'What is it?' He sounds impatient, & she's surprised to find herself worried by it. Worried he might change his mind.
"If I have a choice, then it's not..."
He waits for her to finish, then finally supplies - 'Not a punishment?' She bites her lip, nods minutely.
'You won't be frightened with me, Mara. I won't have you whimpering on my table and have to wonder if it's with passion or fear. I won't bring you to harm. But that doesn't mean I won't push you. Whatever you got from those cantina cretins will come to seem like child's play compared to what we do in these rooms. That is why you must choose this. The power is yours, until you give it to me.'
His words release a sharp sensation in the core of her belly. Taking a moment to process, she nods in assent.
"Ok then," she offers, and then, as an appeasement -"Sir".
A slow smile creeps across his face at her wording, and he sets down his whisky glass.
'Very well then. Get into the bedroom and kneel on my bed.'
He sits behind her and ties her wrists. He's not gentle - pulling her arms back, using synthetic rope that sings like electricity when it drags against her skin. She likes it. She'd like to feel a little more. He tugs her underwear down without speaking, pushes her forward onto her face as he draws them down her legs.
'Ass up' he commands, and she struggles to oblige, an awkward kneeling position at best. She hears him open a closet, sees him toss out a bag. He sifts through it a moment then draws out a paddle - black, heavy, glossy - and returns to the bed. One hand under her hip, he draws her rear higher still. She's exposed and vulnerable, and yet, not the least bit afraid. A trickle of excitement begins to stir between her legs. Then his hand is gliding over her, smoothing along the curve of her bottom. Two hands, stroking, squeezing, reverential and soft.
'You've got a beautiful ass, Mara Jade' and face still in the blankets, she shakes her head in denial. She is grabbed sharply by the hair and yanked back up against him, as he leans to hiss fiercely in her ear.
'When I pay you a compliment, I don't expect you to argue. Say 'thank you' like a good pet - come on now, let me hear it.'
With the faintest of tremors, she does as he asks. "Thank you sir. I'm.. I'm glad that it pleases you."
'That's better' he says, softly, placing a kiss to the back of her neck as he let's her drop to her front once again. 'You're a beautiful woman & I won't hear you say otherwise. You should own every power you possess.'
And then, without preamble, he strikes her hard against the buttock with a searing sharp pain. It sounds out a sharp crack in the room, and she lets loose a cry against the blankets in her face. Immediately his hand is covering the skin, soothing it, warm. She sees the paddle drop to the bed beside her, sees it's weight and it's size.
'How many, Mara Jade?' he asks, liltingly. 'How many until you beg me to stop?'
"More" is all she can manage, breathless with shock, & he's ready to oblige - raining short, sharp smacks against the staccato beat of her desperate gasps. He pauses, lets the sensation sink in. All blood is rushing to her rear, leaving her dizzy, lightheaded despite her inverted position. She registers both tears and elation - a fierce rush of endorphins surging through her veins, rich and sweet like molasses. & then he resumes, and she can no longer think of anything. Cannot even distinguish one strike from the next. She feels herself sinking deeper and deeper; the fire on her skin like emotional bacta. With every jerk of her body, every crack of the paddle, she feels cleaner, more pure. This is what she's been searching for since the Emperor died. This pain, the submission. He pauses again and she closes her eyes, lets the humming pain soothe her like a screaming red lullaby. She can feel the lines where her skin threatens to break open and bleed. She can feel her heartbeat all over her ass.
And then suddenly, something else - something wet and hot and impossibly intimate. His hands are spreading her open and she feels his tongue pushing in, sliding into her labia. She squirms, but his hands are firm against her scarlet skin, and the contrast is visceral. He slides a warm, rough finger inside her, then another, slips his mouth over her clitoris and draws it into his mouth. He's devouring her roughly, the stubble of his chin stinging sharply where it grazes her tortured ass. His face is fucking her fully - she has never felt so exposed, never anything so intimate. And all the while, he keeps those fingers working. Not thrusting or stretching, just rubbing her slowly, deeply inside. Stroking & sucking, increasing the pressure, and with a growing quickening sensation she sees starkly where all this is headed.
He lifts his head, and she can feel his smirk through the force.
'What was that, my pet? Did you just tell me 'no'?' He keeps his fingers within her, slowly working. Slowly, slowly.
"I... I don't want to come. Sir." biting the pronoun out with a degree of reluctance. "I didn't come for that. I... I want you to hurt me."
He doesn't break his rhythm, still broadcasts that smug little smile.
'If you fear the pleasure more than the pain, then which is the greater punishment? You must see my dilemma here.'
Slowly, slowly. She's panting now, pushing against his hand even as she tries to pull away. It's been so long, so very very long since she's allowed herself this pleasure. She can't let it break open now. It's against every one of her rules.
"I don't want you to, Luke." She feels his thumb begin to stroke against her clitoris. "Please..."
'But your pussy wants me to, Mara. It seems your body's more than eager for what I can offer it...', and for emphasis he twists his fingers, the sound of her juices wet and lewd.
She hears herself moaning, drawing the sheets between teeth to try to muffle reluctant cries. Her control is slipping, her hips grinding into his movements, breaths coming fast, hard and ragged.
'Come for me, Jade,' he commands lowly, tugging her to him by her knotted wrists. 'Let me hear you scream'.
He adds one final finger beside the others & she slips over the edge, sobbing, gasping, roaring with lust. Feels herself gush uncontrollably against his hand with each rhythmic contraction; dripping down her thighs, drenching the bed beneath her. She comes hard and long and he's behind her all the while, stroking her, murmuring incongruently soft words over the thrum of her heart.
The world bleeds white for a while, and then he's before her, lifting her shoulders, wiping at tears with his thumbs.
He takes his fingers, still slick with her orgasm and glides them into her gasping mouth.
She sucks hungrily on instinct.
'Good girl', he says, 'get it all. That's the taste of your pleasure, Jade, & I'm going to teach you to crave it.'