Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
Sylvan Varain
Mortal-King
- Joined
- Dec 15, 2018
- Location
- Princehome.
[Not fully expecting this narrative to be followed. Mostly to set a vibe.]
"I found my old shock collar the other day, you know."
Their throat tightens.
They've known each other for a long time now. Too long, many would say. The average life expectancy of a slave within the Sith Empire had been calculated to be twenty-nine years, three months, and sixteen weeks. The expectancy of a Twi'lek slave was seventeen percent lower. The expectancy of a Twi'lek slave to a Sith Lord…
"Still works," the Twi'lek hums. "Tried it myself."
God. This woman. The thrum of the universe circles around them, howling with hate at the alien's flagrant disrespect shown towards her Master - her OWNER. There could only be one response to it. A singular, horrible answer that was often used on Tuk'ata pups that stepped out of line. Where was the nearest whip? The nearest stun rod, perhaps? Or something even more creative? The weight of their saber felt like a bag of stones that only grew heavier each time the alien spoke, begging - demanding - to be wielded.
"Oh?" The Sith answers, hiding the corner of their lips that waggled upwards. "Do you need help fitting it on?"
They've done a little more than 'know' each other.
"My neck's easy. Might be a tight fit for who I have in mind, though."
Oh. Oh, fuck.
For all the rage around them, for all their putrid thoughts, all they can focus on is the shudder of their heart that races straight to their groin. They're in public now, and they suspect their 'slave' was waiting until just that moment to spring this news on them. The beat of their chest and the cold sweat that runs down their neck is nearly enough to make them forget the prying eyes of the Cantina around them, none daring to be calm in the presence of one of the Emperor's Warriors.
"Distracted, Oh Mighty One?" The slaves teases. She knows the effect they have. And by now, she understands how much it enrages the darkness lurking inside them, the merest implication that they could be anything but the unchallenged god between them.
And how much it turned them on.
"How about it? We gonna kill this goon of yours and go see how it feels?"
Right. They were here to assassinate somebody, some agitator with democratic ideas better kept to themselves. Pamphlets, or something.
"You're the worst," the Sensitive laughs, palming their face, feeling their heart warm at the sight of the smile on the Twi'lek's face. The screaming in the back of her head got a little louder - so did the rest of the bar, once said alien's gun tore out of its place at her side and ripped open a hail of plasma.
(More Old Republic stuff. Any use of 'she' is just for making it easier to read. Open to lots of gender pairings, but FxM with me as the F isn't very interesting to me. Looking for somebody to play the Twi'lek here [or another alien species, or just a human] in opposition to my Warrior OC for some short-term smut. I was imagining YC as being Vette, but they don't have to be. There are two directions I'm hoping to take this in; some cool, maintenance dominance Sith Lord who gets off on 'dominating' their partner but doing it very sweetly and taking care of them and making them cum a whole lot, overstimulation stuff, or role reversal where the 'slave' is the one putting a collar on the Sith, much to the overbearing hatred of the dark forces swirling inside their heart. This is meant to be pretty gushy romance taking place between two very unlikely people in a dark sci-fi setting.)
"I found my old shock collar the other day, you know."
Their throat tightens.
They've known each other for a long time now. Too long, many would say. The average life expectancy of a slave within the Sith Empire had been calculated to be twenty-nine years, three months, and sixteen weeks. The expectancy of a Twi'lek slave was seventeen percent lower. The expectancy of a Twi'lek slave to a Sith Lord…
"Still works," the Twi'lek hums. "Tried it myself."
God. This woman. The thrum of the universe circles around them, howling with hate at the alien's flagrant disrespect shown towards her Master - her OWNER. There could only be one response to it. A singular, horrible answer that was often used on Tuk'ata pups that stepped out of line. Where was the nearest whip? The nearest stun rod, perhaps? Or something even more creative? The weight of their saber felt like a bag of stones that only grew heavier each time the alien spoke, begging - demanding - to be wielded.
"Oh?" The Sith answers, hiding the corner of their lips that waggled upwards. "Do you need help fitting it on?"
They've done a little more than 'know' each other.
"My neck's easy. Might be a tight fit for who I have in mind, though."
Oh. Oh, fuck.
For all the rage around them, for all their putrid thoughts, all they can focus on is the shudder of their heart that races straight to their groin. They're in public now, and they suspect their 'slave' was waiting until just that moment to spring this news on them. The beat of their chest and the cold sweat that runs down their neck is nearly enough to make them forget the prying eyes of the Cantina around them, none daring to be calm in the presence of one of the Emperor's Warriors.
"Distracted, Oh Mighty One?" The slaves teases. She knows the effect they have. And by now, she understands how much it enrages the darkness lurking inside them, the merest implication that they could be anything but the unchallenged god between them.
And how much it turned them on.
"How about it? We gonna kill this goon of yours and go see how it feels?"
Right. They were here to assassinate somebody, some agitator with democratic ideas better kept to themselves. Pamphlets, or something.
"You're the worst," the Sensitive laughs, palming their face, feeling their heart warm at the sight of the smile on the Twi'lek's face. The screaming in the back of her head got a little louder - so did the rest of the bar, once said alien's gun tore out of its place at her side and ripped open a hail of plasma.
(More Old Republic stuff. Any use of 'she' is just for making it easier to read. Open to lots of gender pairings, but FxM with me as the F isn't very interesting to me. Looking for somebody to play the Twi'lek here [or another alien species, or just a human] in opposition to my Warrior OC for some short-term smut. I was imagining YC as being Vette, but they don't have to be. There are two directions I'm hoping to take this in; some cool, maintenance dominance Sith Lord who gets off on 'dominating' their partner but doing it very sweetly and taking care of them and making them cum a whole lot, overstimulation stuff, or role reversal where the 'slave' is the one putting a collar on the Sith, much to the overbearing hatred of the dark forces swirling inside their heart. This is meant to be pretty gushy romance taking place between two very unlikely people in a dark sci-fi setting.)
Last edited: