Xana writes (and bitches probably.) Comments Welcome!

The Lord Commander drank until the memory of meeting Aurianna faded from his mind. She was a girl then, and he doubted she remembered any of this. He still recalled the woman, and how her hair smelled of wildflowers…

“Lyara?” The young paladin called, his heart in his throat, fearful his once lover would resent his five year absence.

“Mykel? Is that you?” She turned around to meet him, her hazel eyes beaming with happiness. “By the Goddess, it is you!” She was tall and slender, and though she lacked the muscle of a warrior, she had a deceptive strength about her. Like silk covering steel.

Mykel took the woman into his arms, wrapping her in the love they had missed in his absence.

“Mommy?” A small voice called out, from beneath them. Mykel looked down at the child, the spitting image of the woman he held, save the golden eyes that resembled the Goddess.

“You married?” He asked, crushed by the disappointment. She shook her head, caressing his face.

“There is only one man I loved enough to carry his child. And he never asked for my hand,” She responded, teasing him slightly.

“So, she my…” He tried to ask, his words failing him.

“Come here Aurianna,” Lyara called to the child, who ran into her mother’s arms. She planted a kiss on the girl’s forehead, while she lifted her up to Mykel’s face. “This is Lord Mykel. He is a Paladin.”

“What’s that?” the child asked, nuzzling her mother’s neck.

“He fights the monsters.” She mother explained, pride in her voice. Aurianna golden eyes glowed in amazement.

“Nice to meet you” she said in a child’s cadence.

“Nice to meet you too, little Ari,” the Paladin managed to choke out, rubbing her head.

“Go play now, hun.” Lyara instructed, putting the child down now.

“Her eyes…” Mykel said, not quite forming the thought. “Let me take you to the temple. We will wed, and I will provide for you both.” Lyara shook her head.

“If we go to the temple, they will take her form me.” She said softly, resting her head on Mykel’s chest.

“Then I will stay here, with you two.” He promised, holding his woman close to his body.

“And abandon your duty to the Goddess?” She asked, almost hopeful.

“You are my duty now. And her.” He swore, kissing her deeply.

"I'm sorry Lyara. I failed you again." He poured himself another glass.

Then dirt scared me, because of the dirt
he had put on her face. And her training bra
scared me—the newspapers, morning and evening,
kept saying it, training bra,
as if the cups of it had been calling
the breasts up—he buried her in it,
perhaps he had never bothered to take it
off. They found her underpants
in a garbage can. And I feared the word
eczema, like my acne and like
the X in the paper which marked her body,
as if he had killed her for not being flawless.
I feared his name, Burton Abbott,
the first name that was a last name,
as if he were not someone specific.
It was nothing one could learn from his face.
His face was dull and ordinary,
it took away what I’d thought I could count on
about evil. He looked thin and lonely,
it was horrifying, he looked almost humble.
I felt awe that dirt was so impersonal,
and pity for the training bra,
pity and terror of eczema.
And I could not sit on my mother’s electric
blanket anymore, I began to have a
fear of electricity—
the good people, the parents, were going to
fry him to death. This was what
his parents had been telling us:
Burton Abbott, Burton Abbott,
death to the person, death to the home planet.
The worst thing was to think of her,
of what it had been to be her, alive,
to be walked, alive, into that cabin,
to look into those eyes, and see the human

“ Let's cut her open and devour her insides!” A scarred, shirtless man in a white mask wailed with axe in hand. He raised the weapon high in the air, just to be pushed out of the way before he could bring it down.

“Not yet. Let's get some use out of her first,” Another said, smacking the tied up woman on the ass. She grunted as as his hand made contact with her faded jeans, the curve of her ass jiggling with the impact. Her hands were tied in front of her.

“You bandits are making a stupid mistake. You know who my boyfriend is, don't you?” She spit at them, to a chorus of laughter. Her pouty lips curled into a disapproving scowl.

“Knowing that you are that rich asshole's girl is going to make this all the sweeter,” one of the men said, pulling her chin to look into his eyes. The short, thick bob was jostled ever so slightly,

“Bend this bitch over. She got a lot of cock to take before we kill her off.” A hulking brute demanded, pushing her down by her neck. Her shapely rear was forced up in the air now. He pulled down her jeans over her hips and butt, granting him just enough access to violate her. His first stroke tore through all her resistance, hips smacking into her ass with loud force. His buddies cheered him on as his assault on her body ramped up. Her cries of anguish joined his carnal grunts as he neared his release, slamming into her with all his strength. One last loud groan and....

BANG

The brute's head explodes as a fifty caliber bullet pierces him between the eyes. The woman on the end of his cock let out a loud, euphoric scream as her body trembles in utter bliss.

“FUCK YES! Oh, hurts so good....” She cries out in a breathy moan, as her rapist's blood spurts over her backside. The men who had been surrounding her scatter now, as they try to figure out where the shot came from. The limp lifeless body that had violated her now lied on the ground, and two more shots rung out, taking down two more bandits.

“Don't get shy now,” Nisha called, pulling a gun from her boot, “I was having so much fun!” Even with her hands tied, and her pants handing down around her thighs, she had no trouble dispatching a couple more scavs.

The same psycho who had earlier suggested to cut her open was coming for her again, determined to make good on his threat. She blocked his blow with her tied hands, his axe catching the knot and freeing her. She took a moment to pull up her pants, but the psycho was still gunning for her, and split her top down middle as she fell on her ass. She repaid him with a bullet to the face, shattering the stupid mask he was wearing.. Perky brown breasts were on full display, but most of her enemies were too distracted by the gun fight to notice or care.

A gunner pulled up to the site of the gunfight, with Handsome Jack jumping out of the vehicle as he spotted Nisha. Another shot provided him with covering fire as he made his way over to her, crouching behind cover.

“I have to admit, your commitment to your rape fetish is commendable,” Jack told her, before standing up to unleash a clip into a bandit moving closer to their position. Nisha laughed as she took out two more lowlifes.

“Why don't you bend me over this cover as fuck my brains out while I shoot the rest of these bandits?” Nisha asked with a nibble on his ear. Jack stared at her for a moment or two, possibly considering her suggestion, somewhat hypnotized by her still uncovered breasts.

“I want to choke someone,” Nisha said in a sultry whisper, cuddling up to Handsome Jack in bed. She bit into his neck, right on a throbbing vein, before continuing, ”Or get choked. I try not to be picky about it”

“Tut tut tut Nish, Do you know the difference between choking and strangulation? Choking is when you don't chew your food, strangulation is¬” He explained, too into the sound of his own voice to paying attention to Nisha positioning herself on top of him, wrapping her lovely hands around his neck. She pushed in his windpipe with her thumbs, holding his arms down with her knees. She waited until his eyes became foggy and his lips were almost turning blue before letting up every so slightly.

“So, what is it babe? Am I choking you or strangling you? I told you, I am not picky.” She teased him, as he struggled against her assault. He was so cute when he was angry. And rough too, which was always fun.

Kaydia Voss didn't drink this evening, or any other evening for that manner. While she certainly had reason enough to drink, to burn off her memories with a strong cocktail, she preferred to keep those memories fresh. Clean. They fueled her, drove her to keep going forward. Besides, her mind was her best weapon; alcohol made it dull, but her pain kept it sharp.

She wasn't eager to advertise her mental prowess, however. At her side, in plain sight of anyone who spent more than a few moments looking at her, was a blaster pistol. She wasn't terribly fond of it, nor was she very good with it, but it served its purpose. Mostly it was pressed against the head or the back of her target, while force imbued suggestions advised her quarry to come with her. If they resisted, she shot them point blank, assuming the bounty allowed for dead targets.

Keeping up the disguise of bounty hunter made it easier to hide her true form. Few people questioned a bounty hunter, recognizing their existence as a necessary evil in a galaxy full of criminals. No one questioned her motives, because everyone understand having a job, making money to survive. No one would assume there was more to her than a blaster and a wanted bill, and that assumption allowed her to move in peace.

This evening she found her quarry in a seedy pub. Kayda sat a few tables away, watching the young man drink. She had been searching for this one for quite the long time. This man in particular, it was close to six months of stalking. Following leads, turning in whatever favors she was owed across this quadrant, even using the natural gifts she tried to hard to keep under wraps. Of course this intensive search was really all part of a larger mission. She had been searching for this man for years, close to a decade now. It was only recently that she knew who he was, what he looked like, or even what his name might be...

Shen Aden.

Now she was close. So close to finally possessing this last piece. To possessing him. Even still, as close as she might be, there was still a long way to go before she had him how she wanted him. A loyal and obedient servant, eager to satisfy her every need, to attend to her every command, to fulfill her every desire. That was her end, but he was far from that yet, even now as he sat within ten feet of her.

She moved now, the black cape floating behind her as she walked with a purpose. The hood of the cloak obscured much of her features, her pale skin, her verdant green eyes, all but a single lock of curly red hair. She was tall and slender, any other curves concealed underneath her many layers. The mockery of a weapon her blaster served as was at her hip, drawing attention to itself while the hilt of her light whip was tucked at her back, under both her cloak and shirt.

She tapped the young man on the shoulder, silently beseeching his attention. He paid her little, but that was alright. It was good actually, it meant the effort she was exerting to hide her true nature from him was successful. He didn't turn to face her, but no matter, she bent over him, brushing her body against his. She might not be able to use the force to bend him to her will, but she had other ways of making him receptive to her words. The weight of her breasts against his shoulder would do nicely in a pinch.

“Thought you might be interested in this,” She whispered in his ear, letting her soft lips rest against the side of his head. Before him, she unrolled a wanted bill, containing his likeness. It detailed the bounty that the Jedi Order had placed upon him. WANTED: ALIVE 3000 CREDITS. “Before you reach for that lightsaber, I am not here to take you in. I want to make you a proposition.”

Narcelia prowled through the captive slaves, looking for the one in particular. A human male, handsome and clean cut, wearing holy robes. The one she had faced off with in the previous battle. He was one of the few humans who had managed to put up fight against their forces. He had even managed to kill a couple males before she stepped in to end it. She thought at first he was just a simple fighter, until he cast some defensive magic on himself. She didn't immediately recognize the spell, so she was certain it was divine in nature. A cleric most likely.

He held up well against her, defending himself against most of her spells, and even managing to hit her a couple times. In truth, she was only able to defeat him with a lucky shot. She had lobbed a powerful force spell at him, and he had managed to block it with his shield. This would have been very good for him, if it would have dissipated upon impact, however it instead bounced off his shield and hit a pillar behind him, collapsing the church roof on his head. He was quite fortunate to have survived the impact, or atleast he would be if she could get to him before the priestesses did.

As both a powerful and attractive captive, he was particularly at risk of being sacrificed to the Demon Goddess Lolth. Narcelia thought is was too great a waste to let that happen, hence why she was here, among the new slaves, looking for him. She managed to find him, amidst two other warriors who fell defending the church. She conjured a floating disc to carry him and head back to her quarters.

“You can't take a slave before the priestesses have been in to evaluate them” A young novice scolded her. She flashed a cold stare at the young woman who nearly let out a yelp as she moved out of Narcelia's way. She knew they would be consequences for this but she didn't care. She didn't fear the priestesses.

Narcelia arrived back at her quarters, a large dwelling with walls lined with bookshelves, floor littered with pillows and incense holders scattered within.. She lied the man down on some larger cushions and lit some incenses, hoping the smell would soon wake him.
[...]
As she waited for him to awaken, she fetched a bottle of wine from her private supply and a goblet. Now that everything was said and done, and she had a few brief moments of peace, the dull ache of her injuries was growing louder. Wine would help with that, as would a hot soak, but she would have to wait on that for now. She had company to entertain after all.

She was behind a folding screen, unbuckling her leather armor, when she heard him come to. Still unstrapping herself, she stepped out into his view, and waited for him to recognize her. She didn't think it would to too long, and she was curious what was going through his mind as he saw her, recognized her, realizing what she intended to do to him. A satisfied smile twisted on her lips as she watched him.

“Decided to join me, did you?” She asked in the common tongue, her thick accent punctuating each syllable. She had finally loosen her armor enough to get it off. It wasn't very thick, or even that much of it, but she was grateful for it today, mitigating would could have been serious injuries otherwise. She hung it up on a wooden mannequin.

“I am sure you're not too happy to see me, but I assure you, it's better than the alternative.” She slipped the armor padding over her head and now she was completely nude before him. Her jet black skin was perfectly hairless, save the long luxurious locks on the top of her head. She was a bit curvier than most of her elven sisters, from spending time studying magic rather than physical exertion, but it was well distributed nonetheless. She picked a spidersilk robe from her wardrobe, relishing in how nice the soft fabric felt on her tender body. She cinched it loosely as her waist, ample cleavage still on display towards him. It draped nicely over her round hips and plump ass, landing just above her knees.

She poured him a glass of wine and conjured some food for the both of them, figuring he was easily as hungry as she was. It was a bit strange, treating him like this, as though he were a guest and not her plaything, but Narcelia was not practiced in keeping slaves.

While her birth position and profession had left her marriage prospects abysmal, she was at no loss for potential paramours. She was lovely, powerful, and not nearly as cruel as most women in her position, so she had plenty of drow males who she could call upon to service her, sexually. So she never bothered to keep a bed slave before, and didn't have a strong grasp of the protocol. In any event, she reasoned that if he was to be of any use to her in bed and otherwise, he would need to keep his strength up.

“Don't try anything stupid.” She warned as she made her way to him, unlocking his shackles from behind his back. The plan was to re-lock them in front, so he could have some range of motion without becoming a threat to her.

Akira waited patiently in the Grand Hall to be summoned by the Queen. She fidgeted with her long black hair, trying it behind her in a high ponytail while a few strands hung down her face on each side. She may have been an accomplished warrior, but she was incredibly nervous to meet the young ruler. She had little experience with nobles and she had so much trouble remembering all the rules of etiquette. Most of all, she was nervous that she wouldn’t live up to the Queen’s standards. She wasn’t overly muscular. Toned and in great shape, sure, but slight in build, and not terribly tall. Taller than most women, but about the same height as most men.

All this, combined with the way she bound her small breasts under her armor, lead many to mistake her for a man. She didn’t mind that so much, even invited it in some cases. Before Queen Sera decree men and women equal before the crown, women weren’t allow to serve in the militia. Akira’s androgynous figure was able to get her in 3 years early. When she did reveal her gender to her allies, once the queen made it legal, they was quite a bit of surprise, but no ill will towards her. She had proven herself on the battlefield on numerous occasions racking up a triple digit kill count and dozens of allies saved by her hand. In the five years she served the royal militia she had risen quickly in the ranks, and now she was at the very top of her career.

She never dreamt she would go this far. She had once seen the queen when she was still a young princess, and she had, at that moment, devoted her life to her. Eighth child of poor farmers, Akira always hoped she might one day meet the queen, but never believed it were possible until recently.

A servant beckoned her to the Queen’s chambers and when she arrived and froze in her spot. The queen had matured from a lovely young girl into an elegant monarch.

Akira’s heart pounded in her chest as words failed to form on her lips. From the vibrant sapphire of her eyes, to the soft pink of her lips, her face was the epitome of beauty. And the blue dress that held her figure, an exquisite design that only hinted to the secrets hidden underneath. She caught only a glimpse of the queen’s full bosom and it sent shivers down her bone, a heat spreading through her core.
She felt to her knees now, ashamed at her own behavior “your grace-“ she started before the servant behind her interrupted.

“-Your royal majesty!” the servant corrected her sharply, and she felt a blush flood her face. Already she had messed up, no doubt offending the Queen she sought only to protect.

“Your, your royal majesty,” she stammered, her body burning in embarrassment now. “I wish only to serve you, in whatever way you would have me…” She cringed as the words came out, their implied meaning so unbecoming for the stunning ruler. “I mean, I am here to protect you, and I will die before I allow any harm to come to you.” She kneeled deeply, her face so close to the queen’s feet hoping she hadn’t already blown it.