Hearts of Stars

[Ali Hadrix]

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Ali was dreaming a dream, one that escaped the grasp of her conscious mind, as did people standing within the periphery of her vision in a crowd. It danced along the event horizon of her conscious mind, drawing ever closer yet ultimately unknowable. The dream was about a girl, lost and forgotten by the world, living with a soul of fire, a heart of stone, and a mind of ice. Who the girl represented, Ali knew not. It could have been herself, it could have been her mother, Myra. It could have been Kayleigh Tyven, or Zihanna Syle'a, Riley Reese, or Sitara Qin; it could be any of the women Ali knew. It could be someone she didn't know, or all of them at once, or none of them. No one at all.

Ali stirred from the dream, drawn slowly from the tar pit of unreality towards the bright sunshine of the morning of consciousness. Outside the long window that served as the bedroom's outer wall, dawn break had arrived, several of Hapes' moons were visible hanging in the open sky as the sun began its long trek back to its lover the Day from its mistress the Night. In the city people woke, people dozed, people wept, and laughed and shouted and...

Ali's eyes fluttered open as life returned to the forefront of her mind, like breaking the surface of the water after a deep dive into the sea. The sunlight tore through the transparent pane, basking everything around her in fire. The shimmersilk curtains twinkled and gleamed, pinpoints of light dancing between life and death like a million little stars.

Ali looked down and found herself laying on her back. Her hips were turned rightwards. She had fallen asleep against Têhra's side, with her arm draped over the young woman's stomach and her leg drawn up over her pelvis. Ali pleasantly remembered the sensation of Têhra's supple skin brushing against the lips betwixt her legs. She felt a pressure against her chest and stomach and looked down further still, brushing long dark locks of chocolate from her eyes.
Têhra, Pelin'a of House Syle'a, lay upon her chest. The teenager's arm hung across her stomach, her hand resting against Ali's left breast. Ali wiggled her toes and could feel through the slight movement of her legs Têhra's ankles between her thighs. She must have been trying to warm her feet, Ali thought bemusedly to herself, remembering how cold Têhra's feet had felt against Ali's calves. The young woman's cheek rested against Ali's right breast, blood from her chewed lip had dried in a smear along Ali's malleable hillock.

The Republic officer smiled, glad her dream had ended, for the reality she faced was much sweeter than a half-remembered adventure that had existed only in her mind. Têhra was a pleasant little diamond of reality, and Ali was glad to be at her side. Ali clenched her hands reflexively as she yawned, feeling the plump flesh of Têhra's bottom in her right hand. Somewhat surprised with herself Ali smiled again to herself. She tested the young woman's rump a second time, squeezing it gently, feeling it give way 'neath the pressure of her fingers and return as she relaxed.
Ali decided she needed to wake her little pelin'a, and that the girl deserved to be woken in a pleasant manner. Ali maneuvered her left hand across her stomach and slipped her fingers between herself and the other woman, feeling for the telltale wrinkle of flesh hidden amidst Têhra's cream-pale thighs. She massaged the other woman gently, looking downward just far enough to lay a kiss on Têhra's forehead. "Ne nuhoy, Pelin'a," Ali murmured in Mando'a. Sleep no more, Princess. Her voice was soft and light, like the beams that filled the room around them.
Têhra's hair glistened in a much different manner than it had the night before. She shone, Ali realised, another smile brought to her tender red lips. "Ner copad gar kyr'yc ca." Ali continued, murmuring into Têhra's lustrous, silky locks. Between Têhra's legs, Ali continued playing gently with her lips, softly stirring the young woman from sleep as kindly as Ali herself had been drawn from its depths by the light of the Hapan Sun. Am I crazy for wanting this? For wanting her? Ali asked herself. If she were honest with herself she knew the situation was not ideal. Têhra, for all intents and purposes, was someone else's property in all but legality, and Ali had to find some way to make the girl hers. But even with her positive intentions attached to her actions, Ali couldn't help but feel as if her motivation were soiled and tainted with selfish aims.

Do you want her?
Who wouldn't, she's beautiful.
No one deserves to own her. Or anyone.
But someone must own Têhra, until she owns herself.
And you must be that someone, or she'll never become who she's meant to be.

 

[Têhra]

Têhra's dreams descended into darkness the moment her mind tore itself from the haunting tethers of reality and into the swirling tempest of her subconscious. It was a restless sleep, the wariness that clutched her body before the inevitable slumber forcing the girl to flutter in and out of a hazy alertness. Paranoia lingered in the shadow of her mind, unanswered questions and fearful conspiracies conjuring warped and nightmarish visions that eerily danced in the periphery of her dreamscape. Torrents of blazing heat and blistering cold tore beneath the girl's porcelain skin, thrusting her body into a maelstrom of numbing sensations that only propelled the lingering terror in her mind deeper. Whatever fragments of control the girl knew before her descent into muted madness ignited like oil in a furnace, burning through the mist of her memory and into a wounded fortress long suppressed and neglected.

Forgotten lullabies whispered amidst the chaos, these haunting melodies that sounded like that of a distant storm or the hum of a cruiser lured Têhra's consciousness into a glasshouse shrouded in shimmering silhouettes and faceless specters. Man shaped figures swayed in the shadows and smoke, their eyes gleaming in the inky blackness. The bastard tried to focus but her vision was contorted, twisted and shrouded, like a hand had been placed over her eyes.

Words unheard were constricted by the etching darkness, the muffled gibberish pouring from the mouths of her ghostly pursuers breathing over her like a smog. It was suffocating. Claustrophobic. deafening.

Têhra felt her body struggle against the burning tides, her dainty figure rolling back and forth against the cloying shadows that bled into her vision. A sputtering ember blossomed in her core, throbbing like a wound. The voices of her memories disappeared into oblivion as the heat rippled its burning tendrils under the trembling paleness of the girl's skin. Where is the pain? The bastard tried to call out but there was no answer, no sound to claim as her own.

She was lost in silence, gripped by the heat that held the breath in the back of her throat.

What is this feeling?

A gentle coo slipped off the edge of the girl's peachy lips before the light of morning beckoned her mind away from it's petrified silence. Eyelashes fluttered open, the blurriness that lingered in her vision slipping from her sapphire eyes like clouded scales, revealing a sight that almost instantly sent the girl reeling backwards. The scent of clean skin, dried spit and soap was the first thing her body recognized before her gaze caught sight of two supple breasts, one marred with old blood, and a familiar face staring down at her. Releasing a startled yelp, the girl became immediately aware of where she was and with whom she had been sleeping with. The warmth that embraced her tired body sent the girl into a garbled state of confusion before she finally forced herself to tear her arms off the Mandalorian and relinquish her feet from between her new Mistress' thighs.

With eyes wincing themselves open, Têhra erupted with another shrill gasp when she felt the stranger's hand squeeze her backside, the muscles in that area tensing immediately before she rolled away from her dark haired captor. Wrenching the sheet upwards and covering her nakedness the girl's cheeks immediately flushed with a brilliant red as her mouth hung open, the loss of words evident in her dazed state.

"Y-You?!...M-Mistress Hadrix I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen. Uhh...I-I need to get changed, I-I...what is- where are my..." She groggily rambled, eyes crusted with dried tears flickering as far away from the naked woman not far from her. She was still naked. Of course, the gleaming golden bracelets adorning her wrists and ankles still remained, chafing the skin underneath their tight embrace. Trembling, the girl forced herself to catch her breath before finally recognizing the tingling foreign sensation that swelled between her thighs. Something felt damp. Every minor shift and movement of her lower half igniting the sensitivities that blossomed in her abdomen.

What was happening?

"I-I..I need to use the refreshor room...Mistress..." The girl stumbled, veering on breathlessness as she felt the paranoia return its talons into the base of her mind. She need to check something. She needed the reassurance and proof that nothing unexpected occurred when she was asleep.

 

[Ali Hadrix]

Ali gazed across the bed at Têhra, her face bereft of emotion, betraying nothing. She was merely watching the girl, observing her as a research scientist might observe the subject of a study, always trying to reach a conclusion, always wondering, what, why, how? Ali tilted her head just far enough to rest against her palm as she leaned up on one elbow, her breasts shifting as she moved. She felt their weight on her chest, but was never encumbered by them. Casually, Ali reached up and pinched one of her nipples, tugging on it absentmindedly as Têhra began to sputter and gasp apologies that were every much the bastard she herself was, unwanted and without a reason to be. Her aureola stretched with her nipple and snapped swiftly and smoothly back into place as she released it. Ali continued watching Têhra as the girl struggled before her very eyes, fighting the internal war that seemed to rage between the unknown and mysterious evils that plagued her every waking moment of the day. Ali's heart broke to see such conflict within the young woman.
But as much as she empathized with the other woman, she leapt into action and pushed herself forward out of bed as Têhra bolted hurriedly for the refresher room. Ali reached out as she slid from the mattress and grabbed the young woman by the arm, tugging her aside and pressing her against the wall beside the 'fresher door. Ali's hand shot up to the young woman's throat and she held her in place there, keeping the back of Têhra's neck against the wall. Her other hand stayed on Têhra's arm, holding it above her head. Ali's long dark locks framed her face, which had become a severe portrait. Her lips were pursed and dull; the previous night's lipstick wiped from them. Her eyes were hardened and bored down on Têhra almost menacingly, though the evilness in her gaze was for those who had conditioned her to be this way.
Ali held Têhra against her will, confident she knew what the girl had been after. Têhra clearly valued her virginity, something Ali would never take against her will. She's afraid I...took her. Ali realised, disgusted at the very idea. She shifted her grip on Têhra's throat, holding her more by the jaw than anything, and only doing so to keep her still, rather than to harm her.
"I didn't touch you, I swear." Ali told her, her voice devoid of any intonation. "Please, Têhra, trust me." Ali loosened her grip on the girl's arm in a gesture of faith, then released it. Her other hand loosened on the woman's neck as well, and traveled down between Têhra's breasts to her waist. Ali held her gently now, kindly, and slowly she wrapped her arms around the other woman, their bodies pressed together. Ali buried her lips in Têhra's long curtains of hair, feeling their warmth against her face. "I would never..." Ali murmured softly.

 

[Têhra]

Whatever plan of action the bastard's groggy, panicked mind would have conjured in her mad rush to the refresher room was probably just as futile as anything else she could've done. The very fact she was trying to evade an intergalactic officer, one that proved time and again how silly Têhra's attempts at resistance were, was laughable in the most unfortunate way possible. Like a Nexu pouncing on a bark rat, the Mandalorian's swift denial of her pale captive's retreat took the girl by surprise, a fearful whimper dropping from her lips. There she was once more, pressed between the woman and a hard place, although the severe lack of clothes this time only made the the entire scenario all the more awkward for the teenager.

Throat tightened and breathing stopped, eyes scaling the space that surrounded the naked woman in front of her. Têhra would not look, she could not look and the hungry leer that bore into her exposed flesh made her feel all the more vulnerable. Her cheeks were flushed with colour, the soft red haze trickling down onto her chest, a subdued pink blossoming on her pale, pert buds. It was horrifying, knowing her body was not even her own regardless of how much she didn't want this...or so she vehemently told herself.

With her trembling, free hand, the girl meekly covered what was left of her exposed self. Porcelain fingers clutched the blushing nape between her clenched thighs, as she did the night before. It was a fearful gesture, one which the girl hoped the woman would at least ignore.

Têhr wanted to believe this woman. She wanted to fall into her embrace and experience the warmth and comfort that evaded most of her life...but life on Hapes told her to trust no one, not even those with good intentions.

"Y-Yes Mistress..." She squeaked softly, the words skittering up the length of her throat before hopping off the edge of her pouted lips. How long could she go frustrating this woman? How many days did she have left before her paranoia became real? Her sapphire eyes were transfixed with the large bed's lacquered headboard, the girl's hopes of distracting herself from the current situation proving more difficult than she thought.

Flinching when she felt the woman lean inwards, the girl's skin flourished with goosebumps at the sensation of hot breath against her neck. Têhra wanted to push away, to do what any sane person would have done in such a situation, but a suspicious thought was what held her in place. What if she was the abnormal one? What if all the other girl's caught in the officer's alluring web played along, or worse, actually enjoyed the attention? The contemplation troubled the already troubled teenager and after a moment in silence, allowing her Mistress to sate her desires, the girl spoke up in nothing more than a whisper.

"May I...may I put on my clothes now?" Têhra uttered softly, tensing up for the possible reprimand at such a daring request.

 

[Ali Hadrix]

Ali frowned. Still, she recoils, from my touch, from my gaze, from the happiness I represent. Ali still wasn't truly sure she represented anything to the young woman. She could only hope Têhra merely feared that strongly the happiness Ali wanted for her. Fear I can dissolve, destroy. I can unburden this woman. Ali closed her eyes, letting her lips touch Têhra's cheek softly, tenderly. She could feel the woman's skin twitch against their contact. She stood looking down at Têhra, lightly biting her own bottom lip. The young woman was so frail in mind and body, so ruined by the years spent living 'neath her aunt's dominion that even the sunlight seemed to chase her away. Ali wanted to cry for her, but knew that what Têhra needed at this point in her life was not what Ali wanted to give. She needs servitude. She needs command. Ali wondered briefly how much the young woman hated her in that moment, before catching that hitch in her breathing, that flash of her eyes. It was a short moment, a small moment, a quiet moment, but it told Ali that there were corners within Têhra's own heart that questioned her fear and disdain for the treatment she had thus far received.

All at once the gears within Ali's mind froze, halted in place. An entire machine, not broken, but in limbo, waiting for the spark of revival to enliven them once more. Slowly that spark began to flash here and there in the recesses of Ali's mentality, filling the empty spaces and the dark corners, drawing ever closer to the gears that waited for the life it would bring. Suddenly Ali's mind was alight as with fire, and her heart began to boil in her chest whilst her emotions froze with certitude and resolve in her soul.
The Republic Officer reached up and took Têhra by the jaw, sliding her thumb into the girl's mouth and pressing down on her tongue. Ali looked down on Têhra via the tip of her own nose, as she imagined Zihanna Syle'a had done on many an occasion. Ali slowly began inspecting the other woman, her eyes grazing over the mussed, messy hair, the blood smearing her lip. "You can dress once your clean." Ali told Têhra sharply, turning the girl's head from side-to-side before releasing her. Ali reached with the same hand for Têhra's left nipple, clasping it between her fingers and tugging forward, pulling the young woman away from the wall with a modicum of pain. Releasing the nipple, Ali pushed Têhra toward the refresher room, following her inside. "You will have morning responsibilities to attend to before you are allowed to dress yourself, ner Pelin'a." Ali said, the use of Mando'a words intended. "You will wake and you will wash yourself, you will wash me, and then we will dress, eat and begin our day." Ali sat at the edge of the bathtub and began running hot water. She let it redden her fingers as she had the night before, reveling in the heat against her naked flesh.
"You will do this every day you spend with me, Têhra," Ali told her. She maintained a soft, even tone, firm enough to remind the girl of the strength of her own body and mind. "You will learn Mando'a, so that we can converse in my native tongue." Ali added as the bathtub filled ever higher with water. She crossed one naked thigh over the other knee, resting against the edge of the tub with the nakedness of her flesh exposed to the girl. Ali smiled gently and stepped into the bath, feeling the itchy sensation of the hot water reddening her flesh. Ali gripped both sides of the tub and sat down, sinking into the deep water until her legs and waist were covered.
Laying back, Ali draped her arms along the sides of the tub as the hot water continued to fill, small waves lapping at her legs and thighs and the sweet red lips of the sex betwixt them. Ali felt her lips part barely as she released a sigh. Slowly, she waved Têhra towards her with a finger. When she saw the girl was at her side, Ali looked up at her, standing there. Her hand lifted and caressed the young woman's naked skin, resting against her waist. "Every morning, ner pelin'a, you will wake to care for me, and every night, I will care for you." Ali breathed the last of her words, feeling the hot water wash over her thighs and lap at her belly. Absentmindedly Ali waved for Têhra to turn off the water. "Wash every inch of me, pelin'a." Ali began to melt, her lips drifting apart from one another as the hot water soothed her aching muscles and soft, pale skin.

 

[Têhra]

With an empty, idle gaze the young bastard stood tense and still as the Mandalorian inspected her like some creature up for sale, not even daring to utter a sound for fear of reprisal. What could she possibly do to prevent her new Mistress from going any further? Têhra shuddered at the thought, her meekness coming through in the pained whimper that rippled from her tongue the moment she felt herself get pinched off the wall. It was a strange sensation, of which she knew was an invasion of her privacy. But what was privacy now that the woman had spent a night together with her completely exposed? Stumbling after her Mistress, the porcelain skinned bastard instinctively returned her quivering hands to the space between her thighs, doing her best to remain as modest as possible in this completely immodest setting. It was peculiar, never before did the girl feel the need to hide her nakedness from another woman. They were all part of a greater sisterhood were they not? Even if the girl was often neglected in the wider scheme of some mystical galactic sorority she knew there was something very off about feeling this nervous being around another woman

Maybe because she was a stranger?

The teenager's inner musings were swiftly silenced when Miss Hadrix began to state her duties and the expectations she was supposed to meet. Strangely enough, the rules that were laid out for Têhra were much more easily digestible than the notion of actually being this woman's little servant. Quietly, with eyes trained on her dainty feet, the girl solemnly nodded as the woman listed everything expected of her, feeling a slight nervousness pervade her system the moment it was decreed that she learn Mando'a. Would she even have time to do that? With her dancing, serving and her duties back with House Syle'a, the girl feared that the added stress being put on her would only break her down even more.

But she said nothing. Like the good girl that she was raised to be, Têhra conceded with the woman's demands by simply nodding and shyly stepping forward to begin what was expected of her. Blue eyes never lingered on the naked flesh that glistened beneath the steaming water, nor did they meet the woman's gaze. The girl's mind was on one thing and one thing only, clean the woman. Opposed to everything else the Mandalorian had put her through over the past night this was probably where the bastard felt more comfortable, as strange as it was to say. She'd cleaned her cousins multiple times and often tended to Zihanna whenever she partook in those hour long stints in the ostentatiously large tub back in the woman's private quarters.

She could do this. Nothing wrong could possibly happen, this was just her simple duty as the Mandalorian's pretty pet.

Clearing her throat and kneeling by the side of the tub, Têhra dainty fingers clasped a nearby washcloth before submerging it in the tub's water and wringing it of the dust it caught over the night. Twice she did this until the cloth was soaking with the same lemon scented warmth that rose from the ivory tub, a light fog beginning to precipitate on the polished window. Gently, the girl grasped the older woman's hand, slowly relinquishing it from it's place atop the lip of the tub and stretching it out till she could properly run the damp cloth along the pale limb. It was a quiet process, the teenager focusing solely on the duty given to her and not on the gradually familiar sight of the officer's naked form. Maybe one day she'd come to appreciate this woman's confidence? Surely some of it would rub off on her during their awkward nights together. Têhra fought back a bitter smile. Scarred lips pursed together in a thin line as she caressed the length of her Mistress' upper arm, ensuring she lathered an even level of soap from the edge of the woman's shoulder blade all the way down to her slender fingers, the sudsy remnants sloughing off into the rippling ocean when Têhra placed the elegant limb back into the warm, wet enclosure.

The same process was done for the other arm. Once again, quietly, diligently and with just enough minor embarrassment for a pink blush to settle into the teenager's body.

It was then that the porcelain skinned bastard found herself in the position of cleansing the woman's upper half, a task that would have otherwise not bothered the girl if it were her cousins or her aunt. But this...this felt different, almost like she was doing something she shouldn't be doing. Shaking her head, Têhra slowly positioned herself behind the woman, pert buds grazing the top of her captor's scalp as skinny arms slinked around the Mandalorian's face, the dripping wash cloth tightly clenched in one very shaky, nervous hand. Clenching her jaw, Têhra lathered the soapy water onto the woman's collarbone, fingers following the downward curve of the pronounced bone structure till they tentatively snaked their way between the ample, dewy bosom and down to the woman's navel. Brunette hair tickled the teenager's chin, the silky follicles brushing against her petite upper half as as she rhythmically massaged and washed the woman. Hands grazed the taut stomach, returning upwards before finally tracing the ample curves of each breast, the soapy water dripping off the perky mounds.

"I...I still don't know your name..." The girl whispered, hoping to distract herself and the woman from the attention given to the gleaming upper half. There was, however, a genuine need to actually know this woman's name, it felt odd knowing she'd slept with her without knowing what to call her other than 'Mistress'.

 

[Ali Hadrix]

Ali let her eyelids flutter weakly before closing as Têhra ran the washcloth along her arms, feeling the tawny-colored material soak each inch of her skin. Her pelin'a's hands were soft and light in touch; the cleft between Ali's legs grew jealous of her own shoulders and breasts. The officer breathed deeply and slowly, feeling the heat of the water rise to meet her neck and face; beads of sweat grew on her skin as Têhra attended to her stomach and breasts. She felt rivulets of water cascading down her skin, some running between her breasts and others tracing over her shoulders; but all rejoining the pool that enveloped her lithe, pale body.
Ali sat back and did not speak, merely enjoyed the Têhra's touch all along her. She felt the young woman's hands summit her breasts, her pink nipples flicking up and downward as her new Hapan servant-princess wash them, one way then the next. Ali felt her breasts swell and her nipples excite, sighing quietly in enjoyment before silencing herself. Ali pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and clenched until it hurt, forcing down the growing pleasure in her breasts and the increasing heat between her thighs. Ali felt her excitation mounting, slowly but inevitably, gathering strength like a cell phosphorylating energy along its own membrane. Her pleasure clambered up the steps of the mountain that was her climax, letting herself breathe heavily between each minor massif.

"I...I still don't know your name..."

It was Têhra's sweet, small voice that broke the silence in Ali's mind and drew her from the focus of her orgasm. She found her hands tightly gripping the lip of the wash basin on either side of her, a grimace diminishing her features. Slowly Ali's eyes fluttered open, and whilst she still felt her little bastard's hands on her body, they brought none of the same pleasure with their touch. She looked up, turning her eyes to Têhra, anger flushing her chest, turning it a shade of red that had little to do with the heat of the water. Her eyes flashed sharply, long lashes whipping up and down before coming to rest narrowly apart.

Almost immediately, however, Ali's features softened and she released the edges of the basin from her grip. Têhra was leaning over her, the young woman's small, pink nipples just out of reach of her teeth and lips. I want to suck them and bite them, she thought to herself. Privately, Ali imagined simply grabbing the young woman by the hair and holding her down over Ali's own head whilst she sucked Têhra's nipples raw. She saw herself letting go after a moment, as she began to also let go of the thought within her mind.
Her grimace turned to a smile, a warm, undeceiving one. Ali considered the woman's statement. Should I tell her? Ali wondered, curious what manipulation game they were truly playing. Ali knew breaking Têhra out of this strangling shell in which she lived would be a long, difficult process, but she was still unsure how far she was willing to go for it. I don't want to free her only to become another devious master. Ali thought to herself, sighing mentally.
"You know what you deserve to know, ner pelin'a," Ali whispered, looking up into the girl's beautiful eyes. "I want to kiss your eyelids while you sleep," Ali said suddenly, changing the subject. She continued staring up at the teenager, eating up the sight of such young, supple, untouched skin and a malleable mind and heart. Oh, I bet her heart is going to taste delicious, Ali thought to herself, almost salivating. Ali smiled devilishly at Têhra, biting at her bottom lip. "Kiss me." She opened her legs slightly and turned her hips upward. I'm going to enjoy torturing her little heart. "And wash me." She said, the reddened lips of her cleft exposed for the young woman to attend to.

 

[Têhra]

There was a split second, a moment of doubt plagued by the unrelenting feeling that something wrong had been spoken. The sensation was familiar, like when she spoke out of turn around her aunt or performed in an unsatisfactory manner for her cousins. Like a chill of ice, Ali's glare set the girl into a petrified state, dainty hands freezing just above the woman's breasts as she stifled a breath, the ball in her throat halting any flow of oxygen. Was she to wait when spoken to? Were Mando rules similar to the ones that governed Hapes? Would she be punished? The paranoia settled in quick enough to remain latched on to the girl's consciousness and even when the woman's features had softened and the leer melted into nothing more than a hungry stare the porcelain skinned bastard remained locked in place. Swallowing the weight in her throat, Têhra slowly relinquished her hands from her Mistress' figure, the streams of water dripping off the shaky fingers as she nervously listened to the woman's words.

Kiss me.

The order alone was enough to send the mortified jolt through the teenager's body, cheeks unnaturally flaring up with a brilliant red as she quickly recoiled away from the woman. Her porcelain visage was contorted in abject confusion and concern, peachy scarred lips opening and closing as the fragments of an excuse began to mould itself on her tongue. Why did it always come to this? Was the officer truly that starved of affection? Or was there something more sinister? Pressing her arms against her torso, Têhra shook timidly shook her head, raven hair bouncing against the gentle curve of her tiny shoulders as she took a feeble step backwards. The girl knew this to be everything she was barred against. Denying a superior their power and refusing an order was worthy of discipline and punishment and yet she still could not do it, still could not bring herself to simply lean in and kiss her.

"M-Mistress I...I cannot. It is uhh-improper of me to." The bastard scrambled, biting the insides of her cheeks and brushing her toes against one another. Put on the spot once more, this woman surely knew how to exploit her weaknesses. Fiddling with the damp cloth that dripped against the polished flooring the girl muttered a strained whimper before rushing back to the opposite end of the tub and hurriedly clasping the woman's foot in her pale fingers. She needed to reclaim her mistakes, prove she could be a good servant without playing the whore. "I'll...you need to be clean Mistress, the-thesummit is in an hour." Têhra rambled, her sapphire gaze bearing into the woman's supple toes as she desperately tried to sway her attention away from the previous demand. Just clean her and be done with it, she repeated in her head, kneading the blushing flesh of the officer's soles before switching over to the other foot.

"Miss Hadrix. Duch'a Zihanna Syle'a of House Syle'a is here to see you, she says it is important."

The air crackled with the automated voice that echoed into the large apartment, breaking what was once a relatively peaceful atmosphere. Têhra froze, a fleeting breath catching in her throat before the colour from her face drained. Dainty hands began to tremble, manicured nails pressing into the soft skin of the woman's feet as an onslaught of fear collided with her mind. How was this happening?

"She...She knows I'm here..." The bastard's voice was barely more than a trembling whisper, her arms dropping to her sides as a wave of nausea began to overwhelm her petite figure. A panic like nothing else she'd felt before instantly swarmed her body, sending the girl back on to the floor where she instantly clutched her legs and buried her face between her knees. What punishment was worthy of this sin? Frolicking about with a foreigner? Let alone one that had insulted Zihanna so publicly.

"Please Mistress....Please, please y-you have to hide me...I-I can't let her see me like...like this" Têhra whimpered, practically hyperventilating, her eyes manically gazing about the bathroom for a place to shield herself from the woman who was no doubt waiting at the front of Ali's door.

 

[Ali Hadrix]

Ali had already torn her foot from Têhra's weak grip and stood when she heard the announcement of the Duch'a's arrival over the penthouse intercom. "Miss Hadrix. Duch'a Zihanna Syle'a of House Syle'a is here to see you, she says it is important." She froze where she stood, at the center of the wash basin, rivers of water cascading down her breasts and back and thighs. The neatly trimmed cleft between her legs caught the coolness in the air and goosepimples erupted atop her flesh, but she hardly noticed. Ali's ears were pricked, straining, her eyes narrowed, her muscles frozen as she avoided a single movement that might hinder her hearing. There were three of them, outside, Ali knew. Two men, guards likely, and the Duch'a herself. Ali closed her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply, then looked down at Têhra.
Ali opened her mouth to give the girl orders, but realised by the look of terror in the diminutive slave's visage that none were necessary. Têhra wouldn't disobey her, not now when her social, and possibly physical, life were at stake. What would the Duch'a do to her? Ali wondered silently. All she did know was that she didn't want to find out. Ali looked around for somewhere to hide the young girl; realising only now how tactically poor of a choice her current lodgings were.

Thinking as quickly as possible Ali stepped out of the bath, her body dripping wet, and rushed to the wall-mounted control panel, calling back over the intercom, "Tell the Duch'a I will be there in a moment, I'm in the bath." After closing the feed, Ali made for the other wall and pulled one of the fruity-smelling, bubble forming liquids from the shelve housing the candles. She unscrewed the cap and poured the contents into the water of the basin, swirling them about with one hand. Alternately, Ali turned on the hot water, and bubbles began to form swiftly. Ali then yanked the short hose from the inside of the bottle ripping it out from where it entered the cap.
"Take this, stick it in your mouth." Ali demanded, holding the small, transparent hose out to Têhra. She then grabbed the girl by the wrist and stood her up by the tub's side. "Get in, stay under the water and use that to breathe." Ali gave the teenager no time at all to protest, but instead ushered her into the bathtub. Before pushing the girl under water, Ali took the hose from her teeth and leaned down to kiss her softly. Smooth lips met scarred ones, and Ali let herself sigh lightly into the young woman's mouth. "Stay quiet, pelin'a. You'll be safe, I promise." She returned the device to Têhra's soft, scarred lips and gently pressed her head below the surface of the water, then shut off the tap and washed the sudsy water across with one hand. Quickly, the young girl vanished from sight, the small hose invisible amongst the growing tumor of bubbles.
Before leaving the refresher, Ali picked up Têhra's tattered dress and panties, stuffing them beneath the sheets of her bed. She grabbed the pillow the teenage girl had used as well, fluffing the head-shaped imprint out of it before tossing it back down. Looking around as she made for the door, Ali stopped just long enough to toss her wet hair behind her back and get a grip on her hurried breathing.
When the door slid open with a slight hiss, the Duch'a found Ali standing naked as her name-day, leaning casually against the doorjamb with one hand resting just below her navel, her fingertips playing with the short hairs between her thighs. Her pale skin was still wet with bathwater, and the cool air had hardened her nipples and reddened her breasts. Ali smiled sweetly at the Hapan woman, her cherry-red lips parting just so.
"Duch'a Syle'a," Ali greeted the woman, bowing her head just slightly. "To what do I owe this titillating interruption?" She asked slyly, tilting her head slightly sideward. Ali's expression was impossible to read. "And just before the summit meeting, too. What could you possibly need from me? Or...want?" Ali waited for the woman to reply, using the time to take in the resplendent apparel Zihanna chosen for the day. This woman certainly knows how to put on a face. Ali mused. Zihanna would have been attractive as well, had Ali not known how the woman chose to behave in the treatment of her niece.

 

[Têhra]

At that moment the young bastard cared little for her clothes-less state or the fact that her Mistress was only half clean, her mind was completely taken up with the potent terror of her aunt's arrival that the lingering fragments of awkwardness when bathing the Mandolorian had all but vanished. Now was the time to survive and that meant concealment and subtlety. Têhra's panicked gaze riddled her surroundings for a possible hiding place, somewhere that would completely hide her from any possibility of Zihanna discovering her presence...if she did not know already. Standing to her feet, the girl watched as the older woman rose from the tub and threw herself into creating the ginormous mound of scented bubbles. The girl could feel the seconds tick away, every moment she wasted standing in the open another chance Zihanna would get to discovering her.

Sniffling, the teenager felt herself vigorously nodding as the woman assisted her into the tub. She'd never been so terrified, in fact her mind was so taken aback by her aunt's arrival that she completely forgot about how naked she was in front of her mysterious captor. The surprise kiss wasn't enough to take her out of the increasingly risky seconds above water, part of the girl wishing the officer would simply stay and keep her safe. She'd willingly parade around exposed if it meant her aunt never discovered this unfortunate union the foreigner forced on to her.

Biting down on the flimsy hose, the girl submerged herself beneath the mountain of foam until there was nothing left but the barely audible sound of her panicked breaths through the straw. Eyes were shut tight, the flood of water that now consumed her dainty body sending wave after wave of warmth through her trembling figure. There was no sound except the fluttering rhythm of her own pulse and the rasping breaths that struggled through the straw.

Hopefully her captor would return to her soon.

~

Tardiness was something Zihanna Syle'a loathed, a well known fact that often ensured that any meetings or functions held in her family name or by her persons were timed to perfection. It all centered around respect and submission to authority, something the raven haired beauty ensured those lesser than her understood to a tee. Individuals like her abject failure of a niece and the various other useless folk that crowded the royal halls was enough to irritate the exceptionally well kept woman, so much so that the mere thought of having to deal with outsiders felt like an indirect insult from the Queen Mother herself. The summit alone was costing time and the pleasantries traded between parties during the meetings were simple fronts to keep the deals running smoothly.

Hapes shouldn't of fallen weak kneed at the feet of the Republic, let alone ask for a party of foreigners to taint their doorstep.

Alas, a certain amount of pride had to be sacrificed for the betterment of the people and as Zihanna lingered at the doorway of one particularly droll little woman she could not help but wrinkle her nose in disgust at her situation. Ali Hadrix proved herself to be brash, outspoken and completely uninformed in the ways of Hapans politics, couple that with a horrendously irritating accent and a lack of public decorum she was the very portrait of a being unfitting for their rank.

The sight that finally grazed her view once the door was torn open surely pleased the two mute guards at her side but did little in swaying the woman from leering at the Mandolorian. Was this an attempt at intimidation? Seduction maybe? Collecting herself and flourishing the elegant material of her gown, Zihanna strode into the apartment with little more than quirk of an eyebrow at the woman's choice of attire, or lack thereof.

How undignified.

"Save the sarcasm for children Miss Hadrix." The willowy Duch'a uttered, flickering her gaze about the apartment complex before looking down at the dripping, naked creature in front of her. "I have come as an envoy from the Royal Queen Mother herself, she would like to know the progress of the Republics dealings in our sector and whether...everything is to your liking." She snarled, the silky voice tearing the air in front of perfectly painted lips. She hated the pompous and prim woman who demanded she play messenger for such a distasteful excuse of a woman. If anything, Zihanna would sit through watching her idiot niece fumble in front of 'esteemed' guests than stay another second in the vicinity of Ali Hadrix.

 

[Ali Hadrix]

Ali stepped aside as Zihanna Syle'a rushed into her penthouse. The rear hem of the woman's far-too-elegant-for-a-house-call dress towed along behind her, brushing lightly against the carpeted floor. Zihanna immediately began drawling on about the Queen Mother's wishes. So she's not here of her own accord...Ali thought, stopping the two men as they attempted to follow their mistress inside. "You boys can play out here." She growled, keying the door shut and sealing it. She spun on her heel and gathered her long, wet brown locks together over one shoulder, squeezing the remaining water from her tips as she strode back toward the bed. Water dribbled from her clenched fists and onto the floor, dotting it with a series of dark circles. The venom in Zihanna's tone was apparent, the woman didn't both hiding it. Ali walked toward her casually, her hips knocking gently back and forth, the triangle of hair between her thighs dipping from side to side as she approached the other woman. For a moment it appeared Ali was going to run right into the Duch'a, but she turned around the corner of the bed at the last moment with a smile, shaking her rump unnecessarily as she made for the closet.
"Well," Ali began as she sifted through the rack of clothes for something to wear for the summit meeting. "If I were to pick a color other than black to wear today, what do you think would shout Hapes, Duch'a?" Ali asked, leaning back out of the doorway to catch sight of the older woman's reaction. Syle'a was clearly not amused. Ali shrugged and returned her attention to her clothing, picking out a forest green low cut dress. She smiled as she looked at it, laying it out on the bed. "I love how this one absolutely hugs me." Ali said pleasantly, almost as if she'd forgotten the Duch'a were there, in the room. Ali looked up at her and smiled before leaving to retrieve her hair dryer from the refresher.
As she stepped inside and made for the sink, Ali glanced sideward at the bathtub, still coated evenly with enough bubbles to obscure the contents within. As long as Têhra can stand it, I need her to. Ali thought, flicking on the hair dryer and walking back out running her hand through her locks as she blew it out. Over the dull roar of the dryer, Ali looked over at Zihanna, who's face seemed to sour more with every second she spent in Ali's presence. Ali loved it.
She shook her hair out and tossed the dryer onto the bed beside her dress, then reached for the garment and stepped into it, pulling the fabric up along her thighs and over her hips, then slipping her arms through and adjusting her breasts. Surely Zihanna would have noticed Ali skipping any sort of undergarments; she was going to enjoy deepening the woman's anger at the summit meeting.
As Ali brushed her hair with a small comb she knew she finally looked presentable. The sudden thought caused Ali to pause, and she began to realise the extent of her influence over Têhra, her niece. If someone like me, who doesn't give a kriff about what people think of her, can catch myself wanting to be presentable to this woman, where does that put Têhra emotionally every, single, day?

​

​

"If we're being frank, Madame Syle'a," Ali said carefully, stepping back toward the older, regal-looking woman, "I would like to start by apologising to you for what I said at the meeting yesterday. It was inappropriate and I will endeavor to be more aware and understanding of cultural aspects of your society. It was wrong of me to interfere, and it will not happen again." Ali offered a slight bow, then smiled and took another step closer.
"Please ma'am, would you mind helping me zip up?" Ali asked sweetly, pulling her hair over one shoulder and turning away from Zihanna. As she waited for the woman's help, Ali finally answered the original question, distracting herself from the disturbance in her thoughts.
"To be brutally honest, I need more out of your government when it comes to these negotiations. The Consortium is one of the largest collections of systems within the Republic and the influence and wealth you and your people wield is invaluable. That being said, I need you to keep your people under control. This is an Intelligence summit, not an Economic and Trades committee, there should be little to debate about.
"However, any negotiation should be coming directly through you, not via subordinates who want to contradict me during a presentation that I was informed had already been laid out as fact."
Ali looked down and smoothed her dress. "I'm not asking you to roll over for me," Ali said silkily, turning her head to look back at Zihanna. "But you're free to any time if you want." She added, winking and looking forward once more. "I just need your firm grip on the throats of your war dog."

 

[Têhra]

The entire spectacle of watching the infamous Mando operative go about her amenities in such a ghastly manner was equally morbid as it was fascinating for the raven haired Duch'a. It was like watching a disaster slowly unfold in front of her and as much as Zihanna wanted to turn away and focus on whatever mundane glimpses of hope the apartment interior could offer, her eyes did not stray far from the pale little beast dallying about in the nude. With perfectly painted lips curled into a disapproving sneer and sculpted brows knotted in annoyance, Zihanna found herself in the odd position of watching the creature completely forego undergarments and proper incense therapy. It took all of the woman's patience to not scold the foreigner, the piercing leer all that she offered as she stood with arms folded.

It was such an undignified display, so much so that the older woman felt herself shudder at the thought of all the other foreigners following suite. Was this exhibitionism a cultural thing? Or perhaps Ali Hadrix was every bit the lowly whore she looked like? Shaking her head of the thought, the Duch'a wasted little time in finding a comfortable spot beside the gleaming window of the large bedroom, goden eyes plunging down into the rosy gardens below.

All of this beauty wasted on a few foreigners.

"I Appreciate your honesty Miss Hadrix." Zihanna uttered flatly, somewhat pleased that the Mando was wise enough to see through her shameful display of disrespect during the summit. It was an outburst that got many talking, with several key parties becoming considerably more wary of the accomplished officer and the people she represented. Zihanna, for all of her cunning and venom, was neither intimidated nor alerted by the peculiar tantrum. She was simply disappointed. Disappointed that the Glorious Queen Mother thought it shrewd to deal with those that were beneath them, those who thought it appropriate to waste time defending bastards. Weren't woman of a higher calibre? Weren't they the vanguard of logic, not holding to the archaic sympathies of old? Maybe it was the rest of the galaxy that needed to catch up to the Hapans.

Pursing her lips, Zihanna momentarily released a muted sigh before clasping a slender finger around the zipper of Ali's dress and guiding it up the sleek spine. Pale skin was dotted with freckles and old bruises, a pretty sight for anyone masochistic enough to fall for such imperfection. It was a servant's job but one the woman swiftly ended before wiping her hands of the Mando's warmth.

"My war dogs are simply too famished to consider anything else than what you witnessed. My people are not the sort to come rushing into these little escapades of yours so please excuse their trepidation." Zihanna tutted, a manicured nail tugging at the bottom of the woman's chin till she was properly staring at her natural superior. "My grip is on the throats of those that need a little discipline, believe that Miss Hadrix." The Duch'a purred, the crimson nail slowly dragging itself up the woman's chin before tracing the corner of the insolent mouth and wiping away the lightest smudge of lip stick, like a mother would to a child playing dress ups.

This was how you played the game.

"Also, I recommend you go down to the Scarlet strip...there are plenty of girl's there that can sate your proclivities. Bastard girls...quite talented I hear." Zihanna smirked darkly, never letting her burning gaze leave the face of the silly little creature in front of her. Oh she knew about Miss Hadrix' preference for women, it was a worthwhile piece of trivia that only made more sense the more the Duch'a dwelt on it. Of course someone of her tastes would come to Hapes, land where women roamed free, garbed in fine silks and smelling like the freshest flowers. A knowing grin passed the older woman's lips, the malicious tone drifting into the space around them as she stared down the rosy cheeked Mando.

[member="Ali Hadrix"]

 

[Ali Hadrix]

Ali felt the Duch'a's nail dig into the underside of her chin, forcing her gaze upward. Ali herself was a rather short-statured woman, standing well under two meters, yet she'd never felt small. Ali's confidence in herself and the ferocity of her personality had always protected her from it. Yet under the gaze of Zihanna's burning eyes, she felt smaller than she'd ever been, and it took everything Ali had to keep her from shying from the woman's touch. Her nostrils flared and the tendons in her neck fleshed themselves out somewhat as her heart began to pound. Ali had never felt intimidated before, and she hated it.
Even so, something in the Duch'a's manner was immensely attractive to Ali. Submission had never been her stock in trade, Ali had a dominant personality and she enjoyed lashing herself to more submissive women. The Hapan woman's demeanor and attitude, however, awakened something in Ali she'd never experienced before: A desire to submit.
Ali's sex began to buzz with excitation, and her nipples hardened beneath her dress. Zihanna dragged her fingernail up to Ali's lip and wiped at the corner of her mouth, eliciting a gasp from the younger woman. Suddenly, and without explanation, Ali felt the urge to collar herself to this woman, to lick her heeled feet and present herself to her with bound wrists and open legs. Ali's gut began to burn as the realisation twisted itself through her like a hot knife, burning and painful and utterly wrong. Without control over herself, Ali stepped toward the Duch'a until their mouths were parted by mere centimeters. Her own mouth hung open slightly, and she felt an overwhelming urge to let Zihanna use her as she saw fit.
And then Ali remembered Têhra, and everything she knew of that Zihanna had put the girl through, and a fire was rekindled inside her. Ali's jaw snapped shut and her eyes turned to steel, their blue-gray depths cold and hard. With a swiftness, Ali took Zihanna's face in both her hands and kissed her, forcing her tongue along the older woman's perfectly painted lips. When she broke away, Ali did so with a grin, her lips smeared with Zihanna's own shade. She pressed her thumb flat against the Duch'a's lips and brushed them the same way the other woman had wiped her own, only Ali did so to smear lipstick along the woman's chin.
"You're sweet, but I've already got a bastard of my own." Ali drew her bottom lip between her teeth and bit it playfully, then stepped back and headed toward the apartment's kitchen unit. "Thank you for your visit, madame Duch'a, I look forward to seeing those lips in the summit meeting." Ali's tone was dismissive, and she did not look back as she entered the kitchen and disappeared around a corner. Once she had, however, she threw herself against the wall by the stove unit and breathed deeply. Her heart was pounding and her lungs were burning; she'd been wanting to pant for minutes now. How one woman could have such a disastrous affect on her, Ali had no idea, but it shook her to the core. The attraction she had for Zihanna hadn't felt real, it had felt...forced. Ali almost wondered if the woman were Force Sensitive, but Ali had been trained to know when someone was meddling with her head, and none of the familiar alarms had been tripped. Ali calmed herself as quickly as possible, knowing she needed to return to Têhra. At least she didn't catch the both of you, Ali thought, feeling relieved.

 

[Têhra]

Zihanna was a woman rarely surprised, any devious plot and ploy playing beneath the fine pearls of her fingertips like a child would with some dirt. She wouldn't be where she was without her shrewdness and knack for simply knowing, from the brand of the Royal Queen Mother's tea all the way down to her third daughter's unhealthy liaisons with one of the patrolmen Zihanna Syle'a knew every fine detail worth remembering. Of course such a high self-regard for her own skills did not save the woman from the sudden wet sensation playing on her crimson lips. A muted gasp escaped her mouth, eyebrows twitching in surprise and disgust as she felt the hungry young woman come at her with all the insolence as lust expected of such a badly raised Mando'a.

It would have been an understatement to say the Duch'a did not expect the filthy display of recklessness. Alas, even when Ali Hadrix pulled away the raven haired woman remained silent. Abject disgust melted away into look of disappointment, the click of a tongue following the clenching of a jaw when she felt Ali land her final insult. The lipstick could be fixed, masterfully so in fact, but the consequences of the eager Mandolorian's actions would ripple through much more than just the coming summits.

Inhaling swiftly, Zihanna Syle'a offered the woman's room one last discerning glance before striding out of the Mandolorian scented apartment. The trails of her gown followed her elegant departure and with the click of a finger, the woman disappeared behind the front door and back into the society that knew exactly how to treat its superiors.

~

Tiny wet footprints stained the permaglass floor, the dainty trail of sudsy water leading from the bulbous bubbling bathtub and near the frame of the washer room door. A girl, dropping and naked, stood frozen against the tiled wall, the cool mosaic chilling the porcelain skin that wafted with steam and the scent of citrus. Arms hung idly in front of her exposed figure, masking the blushing petals betwixt her skinny legs as dainty fingers twisted and twirled in the bony embrace of their manicured brethren. The abandoned hose that gave her life only a few moments ago laying by the tub that shimmered with the soapy concoction.

Têhra knew she should not have escaped the makeshift hiding place her new Mistress forced her under. It was a foolish decision, one that would not only risk Miss Hadrix's standing in the Hapes Consortium but her own neck if her aunt were so inclined. However, as her digits began to wrinkle beneath the gentle push and pull of the warm bath water and her throat began to burn from the taste of the bathroom alchemy the terrified teenager could do little more than slowly peek from her damp disguise and breathe in as much air as her trembling lungs could manage. Seconds turned to minutes and what was once an exposed mouth eventually turned into a dripping head until the teenager tentatively arose from her isolated disguise and stepped away from her bubbly cage over to the washer room door.

She could only hear parts of the conversation but every sharp syllable that sliced its way off her aunts lips was enough to send a chill down the girl's spine. Why else would Zihanna Syle'a be present if not to personally drag her disobedient niece into some slaver's dungeon? So there she stood, clothed in bubbles and droplets of water, listening in on the conversation between the two entities that waged the war between the submission of her heart and mind. It was a morbid affair, especially when the only thing that separated Têhra from her aunt was nothing but a wall.

But then silence eventually came, followed by a disgruntled gasp and a dismissive farewell from her new handler. How could someone possess the gall to so flippantly disregard Zihanna Syle'a? Têhra stood motionless, teeth naturally finding their place clamped around her lower lip as she conjured up images of what exactly spurred on that graceless dismissal. It took a several more seconds for the girl to actually realise that her aunt's departure actually saved her from discovery, the strange revelation granting her a modicum of relief as she slowly slumped against the bathroom wall.

The bastard's mind, however, could do little to part from its paranoia and concern.

Too close. That was too close, flee this place as soon as possible. Do not risk your aunt's wrath...

 

[Ali Hadrix]

Ali heard the quiet pattering of little wet feet on the floor in the bathroom, and poked her head around the corner to see Têhra, her little pelin'a, standing naked and soaking against the bathroom wall, as ever covering her groin in shame and embarrassment. Ali sighed her feelings away, trying to shake herself of he mixture of pleasure and submission and desire and fear that had wracked her in the Duch'a's presence. Who is that woman? Ali wondered as she stepped around the corner and back into the living area, resplendent in the forest green dress Zihanna had helped her don just moments before. Ali brought a hand to her mouth and cleared her throat, looking the young girl over with a critical eye. I have to be just enough of her aunt to keep her in line, but soft and warm enough to make her love me. Ali thought to herself, stepping forward and into the bedroom area. She rested an arm on the footboard of the elaborately designed bed, deliberating silently amongst herself. After a moment, Ali stepped forward until she stood before her youthful charge. Ali pried Têhra's hands away from her groin and slapped her thighs open before placing a hand of her own over the teenager's warm, pink lips.
"Do not, ever, cover yourself around me." Ali said sternly, pointing vaguely down between Têhra's legs as she felt the young woman's folds, seeking out that ever-important nub. "You belong to me, and I should always be able to look at you when I need to smile." Ali allowed her features to soften as she caressed the girl gently, then withdrew her touch and stepped around her into the bathroom. Ali decided to let Têhra chew away at her bottom lip for the moment. She hiked her dress up and sat down upon the latrine, relieving herself quickly before cleansing and standing to wash her hands. After, Ali reached for a fresh towel and draped it over Têhra's shoulders and began patting her dry. "Do as I say, and I'll take care of you...and not like that wretched woman either," Ali grumbled, shuddering in slight revulsion. She dried Têhra's back and breasts and stomach, then her legs, and returned to the wash basin to drain it.
"I'm glad she didn't find you, Little One," Ali said, drying her arm from its excursion to the bottom of the basin. She looked at the girl deeply, her eyes taking in every curve and trying to remember them all. I'll get to know your body, in due course, ner pelin'a. Ali thought pleasantly. The mere sight of the teenager was relieving the emotional stress that the Duch'a had proven capable of imposing upon her. Ali still had little idea why she reacted the way she did, her personality had always been more domineering and strong than frail and needy. For the time, Ali shook such thoughts from her mind, returning her attention to the young woman in her care. Ali made her way back to the bedroom and retrieved a plain white dress of her own that she thought might fit the girl, and laid it across the bed before retrieving the waif's sash.
"You can wear this home, and change if you want when you get there. I won't have you travel back in rags, understood?" Ali asked, arching a brow and looking up at the girl. Before Têhra could speak, Ali's features softened and she sighed. "That woman is something, isn't she?" What was the look on Ali's face, desire, fear? No one would be able tell. "I don't understand how you survive her, Têhra," Ali muttered, lowering her gaze to her interlaced fingers. After a moment of silence, she looked back up at the naked girl. "But I admire you for it."

 

[Têhra]

Quivering, Têhra mulled in the damp silence, prodding every node and nerve in the garden of her mind to rationalize everything that just happened. There she was, caught between the power of two women that would no doubt snap her in half if they continued their snarling passive aggression and suggestive wordplay. Her aunt was beautiful, yes, with two male lovers to keep her entertained during the very rare moments of physical neediness and the notion of her such a grandiose figure falling for the seduction of a foreigner, a Mandolorian no less, seemed odd. The bastard knew just enough about her body and the wonders of sex to comprehend why such a thing would seem controversial, alas, her concerns over the state of her own purity and affections were severely mutilated ever since her new Mistress claimed her against that cold pillar the night before.

Perhaps physical submission was to Miss Hadrix the way belittling and humiliation was to her aunt. Têhra was smart enough to know that much and the very moment her now dressed Mistress poked around the door she naturally averted her gaze to stare at her feet. How long until this agent's lust broke and overruled the simple guidelines governing her contract? The girl shuddered at the thought.

A low yelp escaped her lips as she felt her hands get forcibly pried away from the warm nook between her thighs, goosebumps rising along her porcelain skin like a swarm as she felt her Mistress toy with her flesh. Biting down hard on her lip to halt the trembling whimpers the porcelain skinned bastard briefly closed her eyes as the woman's thumb found the blushing bud in her nether regions. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but the forcefulness of the action was enough to take away from whatever pleasure an inexperienced virgin could experience. In a bid to distract herself the girl swiftly nodded her head, wordless and blushing, doing her best not to snap her hands back to their protective place in front of her lower lips.

It was only until the woman withdrew her hand from Têhra's groin did the girl realize how long she'd been holding her breath for. The warm rush of air that escaped her lungs was matched by the sizzling warmth that blossomed between her legs and without thinking the bastard attempted the shake the feeling from her body.

"Yes Mistress..." the girl whispered, staring emptily at the plain white dress the woman provided for her. It would do, white seemed to be a recurring theme with all the clothing she was permitted to wear. It was pure, virginal, clean and unimposing...everything her extended envisioned her to be. She was to be a chaste nun, forever marred by the sins of her father and acting as humbly and quietly until her final day arrived. Biting her tongue, the girl glanced at her Mistress before quickly slipping the dress on and tying her sash around the dainty waist. For a moment her mouth opened, a request of sorts, but a quick mental reminder silenced the attempt at speech almost instantly. How could she forget she was now banned from wearing undergarments? A bitter taste rose in the back of her throat as she envisioned how easy it would be for the Mandolorian woman to slip a curious finger up her legs and claim her delicate prize.

"Is there a-anything else you require of me..." She murmured, tentatively running a hand through the damp black tangles of her silken hair as her eyes naturally fell downwards to stare at her Mistress' feet.

 

[Ali Hadrix]

Ali reached forward and gently cupped Têhra's cheek in the palm of her hand, lifting the girl's head. "I need you to look at me, ner pelin'a. We are equals in normalcy, for now. The time will come when you give yourself to me willingly, and then, my darling, not before, will I own you wholly." Ali spoke in a near whisper, her heel clicking against the tiled floor as she took a measured step forward. "You have to want to be with me, and I can tell you are not there yet. You may never be." The possibility saddened Ali somewhat, though she could never cross the boundary of consent. She could only hope Têhra eventually recognized how Ali might be able to help her, and allow it. Lowering her hand, Ali checked the sash tied around her little lover's waist, ensuring it was straight and even. With a smile, Ali gently patted Têhra's cheek as one would a little girl, though followed the gesture with a peck of a kiss on the lips.
"You look beautiful," Ali muttered as she leaned back, taking the diminutive slave's hands in her own. "Leave now, return to your temporary owner," she told the girl, hesitant to let her go but knowing she must. "But think of me, please, and even if for a mere moment, let yourself imagine how happy you might one day be." Ali knew Têhra would survive her return to her family that morning, the girl was strong, though she hardly knew it. The young Hapan Princess had spent most of her life being told the lie that she was weak, and worst, that she would always be that way. But Ali knew different, and this knowledge caused her to beam down on her young lover, excited for the future though she knew Têhra likely only felt fear in this moment.
What do I feel? Ali asked herself, suddenly. Immediately her thoughts returned to the Duch'a, Zihanna Syle'a, and the power the older woman had seemed to wield over her. An ominous sense of fear began to leak into her heart, and Ali understood how Têhra must live her daily life. Like a womp rat living with a vornskr, Ali compared, sadness for the young girl returning to her. She deserves better. She will have better. Ali swore to herself, and not for the first time since meeting the girl.