Star Wars: The Eclipse before the Dawn (Corsair and Xana)

Reader mode
I’ve never really thought of myself as ‘eye candy’, though.

Only because you aren’t looking at this from my angle, Kaydia replied, rather enjoying the sight of her oiled-up husband in hardly anything. Or, perhaps I should say, from a certain point of view? I’ve always been rather fond of those abs, but I have absolutely underappreciated your thighs.

Still, she was careful about how much of her own desire she let bleed into their bond. Trinidad made a good point about how these matches were far different from actual combat. The last thing Quentin needed now was to carry her desire on top of his own growing lust. Besides, it would be more fun to unleash it upon him afterwards. Whether he won or lost.

“I hope you have not wagered more than you care to pay.”

“Your concern is duly noted, Mr. Trinidad, but let me assure you, I will have no trouble making good on this wager. It’s nothing more than I can spare.”


“Like I said,” he grinned, “I’m not that easy.”

“Good. I was counting on you being hard,” Shrikee countered, making a wide circle around him.

“Now,” he added, tossing her back her sword as he recovered his own, “try and put on a better show.”

Shrikee caught her blade with one hand, held above her head in a pose that exaggerated her curves. Malachi was arrogant, and that made him even hotter. She bristled at the realization but didn’t fight it. Instead, it fed her resolve, her need to win. How good would he look with her thighs on his shoulders? There was but one way to find out. “Yes, give into your arrogance. Your cockiness. All the sweeter when you break down and beg me.”

She charged again, feinting right before sidestepping left. Still, he’d seen through her ploy, his thin blade ready to meet hers before she could change trajectory. He was a master with a blade, deflecting her blow in the twist of his wrist, directing the force away. Clearly, he had a lot of practice with it. But there were stick tricks of the arena she knew. Like, twisting into his space, letting the length of his weapon brush her skin and sighing as the bliss glided along her nerves.

It’s not the sort of move one would do if the blade were sharp, but things in the arena were different when one doesn’t fear pain. And, just as she predicted, he had no counter for it, barely registering her position in time to brace for impact. Her broadsword connected with his side, and he tensed, trying to minimize the pain but experiencing maddening pleasure instead.

She jumped back before he could properly retaliate, the blade missing her by a hair’s breadth. Still, he closed the gap between them, denying her opportunity to swing her weapon. He learned quickly, it seemed, managing to slip his sword in the open space of her stance, between her thighs. Slowly, far too slowly, the steel caressed her legs, cool against the needy heat of her flesh. So, she swayed closer to Malachi, eyelids heavy and lips parted, as if she meant to kiss him. He hesitated, realization dawning in his eyes, but it was too late as her forehead crashed into his.
 
Quentin staggered backwards again, realizing he'd miscalculated once more as the blinding pleasure from the headbutt hardened his cock and made thought difficult. Damnit! She'd let him hit her, just to get an opening and hammer at his defenses. He could hear the roar of the crowd, and taste Kaydia's arousal in his mind, and it was hard to think of anything but wanting to fuck right at this moment. Especially when Shrikee seized the advantage and hammered her broadsword into his wrist, causing his own blade to drop from nerveless fingers as pleasure erupted along his arm. He moaned with arousal, chest heaving as he gasped with the effort of keeping control.

"Like it?" his opponent taunted, seeing the lust-filled way his eyes devoured her nearly naked form. She raised the broadsword with one hand, caressing her body with the other. "This can all be over," she added, fingertips gliding over her crotch. "All you have to do is surrender."


The betting board was going wild, lust building in hopes of watching Shrikee dominate and break another opponent. A greatest hits reel was already playing above the arena, showing the golden gladiator walking her defeated foes around on all fours while leading them with a golden collar and leash. Chaining her foes to a pillar in the center of the arena, mounting them with a golden dildo, denying them release as she used their bodies. Procurator Trinidad didn't bother to try to hide the massive erection tenting his trousers as he glanced away from the match. "Perhaps your bodyguard was not as prepared for this match as he thought?"

The anonymous gambler who'd accepted Kaydia's wager of an orgasm by hand or mouth was clearly gloating. looking forward to cumming on that mouth, the message responded. still confident? got three friends wanting to take turns at you if your man loses. rough and long and hard, while he watches. counter-wager if interested.



There is emotion, Quentin reminded himself, yet there is peace. He smiled, compartmentalizing the pleasure and lust as Shrikee came at him again. Emotions were emotions. Sensations were merely products of the nerves. All of them could be controlled, ignored or hearkened to as required. Time to stop playing.

Shrikee lunged, driving the point of her massive sword at his stomach. Quentin spun lightly, feeling a small sting of pleasure as he batted the steel aside with his forearm, then twisted back and drove his knee into his opponent's stomach. Whatever sound of pleasure she might have made was lost in an explosive gasp as the air erupted from her lungs. Then she folded around his leg as he hammered his left hand into the back of her neck. She hit the ground gasping for breath and he dropped on top of her, straddling her hips and using his weight to pin her to the arena floor. The feel of her sleek, strong body moving beneath hsi nearly broke his newfound self control, but he managed to ignore it as he picked up her broadsword.

"I thought you were good," Quentin laughed, wrapping his free hand around her throat. She gripped his wrist reflexively, fighting for breath. In response, he slammed the pommel of her sword into the valley between her breasts. "But, be honest here," he continued, shifting his hips and letting her feel the rigid length of his meat sliding against her, "I'm the hardest opponent you've ever faced. Aren't I?"
 
When she had made the bet, Kaydia had been concerned she was being unfair. Quentin was far too skilled to lose to sex gladiators. Now, there was a very real chance he could lose, and, from what she could feel from him, neither of them were all that concerned with losing, right now.

Kaydia visibly shuddered as she read the incoming message. Receiving sensual feedback from Quentin’s bout had gotten her hot, and his need to fuck reached her as well. Aroused as she was, getting used by four anonymous partners sounded like a great time.

“I wouldn’t count him out, just yet,” Kaydia challenged, offering Quentin moral support through the force. She tapped a quick message back, hardly taking her eyes off the match. Fine, but if he wins, you all will serve my pleasure. Settling back into her seat, she sighed and smirked as Quentin climbed atop Shrikee. “Malachi is always full of surprises.”


“I can’t say for certain yet,” Shrikee managed to rasp out, so close to giving in her own building lust. The ache between her thighs was nearly painful, and his stiff cock straining against thin layers wasn’t help, “but I truly hope so.”

Pinned beneath his enticing form, there wasn’t much she could do to defend, much less counterattack, but there was no way she’d give in to this amateur. Nipples stirred, painfully erect against the metal that barely covered them. If she managed to get up again, or at least get a free hand, she’d rip them away. All was permitted in Arena Av Lilla Doden, so long as one kept fighting.

So she stopped trying to free herself from his iron grip, instead raking sharpen nails down his back. Oiled up as he was, she didn’t draw blood, but still she left him streaked pink in a mockery of passion. “Putting on a good show for your Mistress? I doubt the pampered princess lets you treat her like this, does she?” She continued to squirm, rubbing herself against his meat while making the effort to escape. “Are you thinking about her, while you wrap your fingers around my throat? Imagining how she’d like it if you fucked her how you actually want?” Her hand caressed his skin, trailing back up his back and over his throat, until she could brush fingers against his cheek and lips. “Make her jealous, and use me how you want to use her. Unlike the princess, I can take it.”
 
MF Smut Scene: Quentin and Shrikee
  • Index
    • "Can you?" Quentin replied, stubbornly ignoring the delicious sensations of Shrikee's steel-sheathed fingers exploring her lips. Of her ripe, muscled form moving against his. "She appreciates a firm hand. Do you really think you can take it?" He stared down at her for a moment, looking into her warm, brown eyes and appreciating the heat of her body against his aching cock. Then, unexpectedly, his head darted downwards and his teeth fastened in the skin of her shoulder. He bit hard, hard enough to leave a bruise, and her sharp cry of pleasure was proof of how much the implants made her enjoy the sensation.

    "What do you know about how Madame Cordfay fucks?" he growled against her skin, sliding a hand over her full breast to tear away one golden nipple cover. With an evil grin he bit her again, gripping the erect flesh of her nipple and twisting it savagely. Her cry of ecstasy echoed from the arena walls. "Do you think she's soft? That she wants only gentle caresses, simply because she is wealthy?" He squeezed the nipple harder and pulled, bruising her throat with his teeth as he did.

    Shifting he weight, he tore away the other nipple cover and then rose and dropped his knee into her stomach once more. Her shoulders came off the floor of the arena and he rose again, rolling her over and pinning her to the ground with his weight once more. "You say you saw the Telerath footage," he growled into her ear, grinding his thick meat against her barely-covered ass. "You know how she fucks, then." Gripping a fistfull of her long blonde hair he pulled backwards, forcing her to stare up at the box Kaydia watched from. "Can you take it?" He raked the nails of his free hand down her back, leaving welts. "Beg me to use you the way I used her. Beg me to fuck you raw."



    “Full of surprises indeed,” Trinidad agreed as the audience watched with baited breath. “I wouldn’t have believed an amateur could defeat Shrikee, but it appears he may.” A shrug. “Still, I suppose that is why I am a Procurator and not a Bookmaker.” He watched a moment longer, then looked at Kaydia. “Perhaps you would be willing to enter Malachi in more matches, Madame Cordfay? The winnings could be... significant.”
     
  • Index
    • Fuck, she was so close. Shrikee thought she could cum already, and she’d never climax from the implants alone. Her need to climax became worse with his fist in her hair and rough ground scraping her erect nipples.

    “I…” holding back her pleasure was painful, an alien feeling when all other sensations became bliss. “Pluh…Please…” She ground her ass against his cock, barely contained by thin fabric, a last-ditch effort to get him to give in first, before abandoning all pretense of dignity, “Fuck me, Malachi! Use me…fuck me like a warrior, a conquer, a victor!”


    Kaydia met Shrikee’s eyes, letting a gloating smirk cross her lips. In another time, she might have had sympathy for the woman –Quentin had pulled the “beg for me” trick more times than she could count– but right now she was too aroused to care about anything but getting off. Finally, she locked eyes with Quentin, sending a suggestion through their bond, Make her scream for you.

    While she could probably have gotten off on Quentin’s sensations, she wanted pleasure. There was a group that had been expecting –looking for to, even– using her, like she was another offering at the Velvet Hour. How would they take to serving her instead? “So, Mr. Trinidad, how do I go about collecting on my bets?”
     
    “May I?” Trinidad asked, gesturing at her datapad. He took it and examined the screen. “Ah, I see. The loser had rented the Dark Room. Merely tell them the time you wish to collect your forfeit, and they will meet you.” He handed the tablet back. “They must have planned some interesting uses for you - the Dark Room is lightless by design, intended to add mystery and anticipation to ant encounter.” He shrugged. “After all, one never knows what will happen next.”

    He tapped a few buttons on a wrist computer. “It’s perfectly safe, of course. The Dark Room is monitored for signs of genuine distress, and security respond new accordingly. We value our patrons, after all. Now, about my... hm?” Shouts of confusion from the audience caught his attention. “What? What’s this, now?”


    “Fuck me, Malachi! Use me…fuck me like a warrior, a conquer, a victor!” Shrikee screamed, grinding her firm ass against his aching dick. Mental discipline or not, the sensation nearly made him cum right then and there. And fuck if he didn’t want to. Turned on as he was, it would be so easy to tear her thin briefs away and bury himself in her as the crowd watched. While Kaydia watched.

    Make her scream for you.

    Clearly, Kaydia wanted to see it - or, at least feel it - as well. But as he stared down at Shrikee, listening to the crowd howl and Kaydia’s thought drift through his mind, he had an idea. He was supposed to put on a show, right?

    “No,” he said, pushing away and standing up.

    The crowd went silent, watching with a mixture of hunger and confusion. Shrikee stared at him with the same expression, grinding her bare breasts against the sandy ground as she did. The expression turned to one of agonized delight as he wrapped his fist in her long hair and pulled her head up to stare at him. “I said,” he remarked, trying it to think how good her crimson lips would feel around the erection that strained the fabric of his costume, “beg.”

    He released his grip, letting her drop to the ground once more. “Convince me,” he told her. “Make me believe you want to be taken by the man who beat you, and used like a prize until I’m tired of fucking you.”
     
    Crawling on hands and knees, Shrikee played Malachi’s little game. There was no choice now, not as desire consumed her mind. Distantly, she was aware of her own humiliation, but right now shame folding into her lust, compounding it beyond her ability to resist.

    “Please, Malachi,” she implored, rubbing her body against his toned legs and her pushed herself up to her knees. His scent, perspiration dripping from his skin and precum building in his raging erection, flooded her mind, nearly stealing her words. She wanted to suck him off while she fingered herself until he painted her body in proof of his victory. “Let me suck the cock of a champion. Make me wear your triumph on my skin, so everyone here will see that Shrikee, Banshee of the arena, was brought low.” Needy fingers tugged at his costume, eager to taste his meat. “Please Malachi, I’m so wet for you, for this magnificent cock.” She brushed her lips against it through the thin cloth, already worshiping at the altar of his manhood.


    Kaydia was torn between wanting to watch Quentin use the gladiator and wanting to fuck and relieve the growing tension of watching and feeling his sensations. For the time being, she settled on watching, enjoying the thought of leaving the losers languishing in their lust, until she gave them leave to sate it. "That sounds quite promising. As does having Malachi return to the arena."

    Watching with unblinking eyes, she imagined herself on the arena floor with Shrikee and Quentin. Sharing his cock with her and licking his seed off her skin. She would be fun to share with Quentin, riding Shrikee’s face while Quentin used her cunt, and kissing her husband as they climaxed together, denying their plaything until she was mad with need. Perhaps taking pity on Shrikee, she left the vivid image float down to Quentin’s mind, testing his resolve. Bet she’d look good with your cock in her throat.
     
    Well, fuck. Kaydia was enjoying herself, wasn’t she? She would, wouldn’t she? he replied, letting her feel the whisper of the defeated gladiator’s lips against his cock, and his own barely-restrained hunger. But I’m supposed to put on a show, right?

    Quentin slapped Shrikee across the face, hard enough to send the blonde sprawling down not her back with an involuntary cry of delight. “A champion,” he declared, working at his belt and stripping the briefs away, sighing in relief as his erection sprang free, “uses his trophy as he sees fit.” He straddled her ribs, his weight pressing her back into the sand, his cock brushing her lips as it nestled hot and hard between her breasts. She moaned, her back arching against him as her mouth opened to take him, and he cuffed her again. “Let you suck my cock?” he laughed, pinching her nipples hard and making her moan.

    She opened her mouth again. This time he shifted backwards, smearing precum on her skin as he gripped her throat and slammed her head back into the sand. “I don’t think you understand, Shrikee -you’re not begging to suck me off.” He squeezed a little, then released. “You’re begging me to fuck your throat, Shrikee. You’re begging me to use you as a fuck doll for my pleasure.” He ground his meat against her chest, fingernails biting into her neck. “Do it,” he hissed. “Beg me to fuck you raw, in front of everyone.”
     
    If not for the implants she bore, Malachi’s harsh treatment of her would have boiled Shrikee’s blood. Thanks to the implants, however, it just made her wetter, aroused beyond rational thought or dignity. She needed to fuck or get fucked, used by this delicious specimen of athletic prowess. “Fuck me! Fuck my mouth and throat, until you’ve take your pleasure of me. Use my body as you see fit, any and everything you want. Let me serve you as you deserve!”

    Fuck, but his cock looked so good, twitching between her tits, just out of reach of her mouth. If only she could suck him, she could make him lose control. Perhaps, or perhaps not, for any other man would have lost control already. How did this amateur resist so well? “Use me, Malachi! Use this loser’s body as your fucktoy, until your every lust is sated.”

    Kaydia sighed, watching with great interest for Quentin’s next move. Poor Shrikee. The woman likely never met a person as stubborn as her husband, and likely wouldn’t ever again. You are almost too good at this. If the Jedi thing doesn’t work out, we could make a killing here. She laughed into her wine, seeking the barest relief from the fire that burned between her thighs. Damn, I want to feel how good she sucks you off.
     
    The urge to fuck himself into Shrikee’s firm tits until he coated her face with cum was powerful. But Kaydia has made a request, and he wanted to feel her in his mind as she watched him use the blonde gladiator. So he forced himself to stand up, using her hair to drag her into a sitting position as he did. “What are you?” he demanded.

    “Your... your fucktoy...” she moaned.

    “Louder!” he demand, jerking her hair.

    “Your fucktoy!” She screamed.

    With that cry Quentin pushed his length into her mouth, shoving hard until his head battered against her throat. Seizure by a double fist full of her hair he began moving her back and forth on his meat, mastrubating ith her mouth and throat. “You like that?” he grunted. “You like... getting your throat fucked?” She grunted something, the words lost on his meat, and her drove himself into her harder. “Touch yourself, fucktoy. Show everyone... how much... you love... being used...”
     
    Used by Malachi, there little Shrikee could do but slobber and slather his cock with saliva, making the motion of fucking her mouth and throat that much smoother. Spit drooled from her chin and dripped onto her bare breasts, still raw from being scraped against the rough ground and mercilessly teased and twisted.

    His command for her to touch herself was more than welcome, shoving three calloused fingers deep into her dripping snatch. Mimicking his momentum in her mouth, imagining how good he would feel using her cunt. Fuck, suddenly his command presented a problem. She wanted to cum and was already so close. She’d been on edge for quite a while already, and the demanding way he used her mouth only worsened her need. But, with lips stretched over his thick cock, it was impossible to ask permission, and cumming without permission seemed unwise. She didn’t often lose, but she still knew well that the loser was subject to the victor’s every whim.


    Kaydia groaned once Quentin finally began fucking Shrikee, feeling the sudden sensation of her wet lips and tight throat squeezing his cock. Fuck, so fucking good. It took an iron will not to touch herself then, Hell, touching herself wouldn’t have even been out of character, given how more than half the audience responded to Quentin’s aggressive use of Shrikee. But she did have a group waiting to tend to her desires now, didn’t she? Perhaps it was time to collect.

    Picking up her datapad, she sent a message to the loser, Meet me in the dark room in 10 minutes.
     
    Quentin wrenched her mouth from his cock once more, twisting her long golden hair and forcing her back. It was an act of will he wasn't certain he was capable of, not as desperately as he wanted to empty himself into her throat in front of the lust-drenched crowd. But, damn it, if he was going to put on a show he was going to put on a show. So he used her hair as a handle, forcing her to turn and roll onto her belly. Then he crouched down, tearing away the brief garment she wore around her hips. "I couldn't hear you," he said, pressing her body down into the sand. "You're not very good about proclaiming your love of being used like my fucktoy."

    Gripping her hips with one hand, using the other to press her cheek into the sand, he pushed her ass up into the air. She was shaven, he noticed, her lips dripping wtih lust and visible to the audience. "You need to tell them," he snarled, slapping one bare cheek hard enough that the crack echoed around the arena. "As loud as you can, you need to tell them." Another slap, turning the flesh red where he struck. "Tell them!"

    He struck again, harder and louder. Then, with a smooth thrust, he drove his cock into her dripping slit. Wet as she was, he felt on resistance as her folds parted around and then gripped his aching, steel-hard meat. "Tell them!" he barked, gripping her gauntleted wrists and using them as handles to pull her back onto his dick as he fucked into her. "Tell them you're my fucktoy! Beg me to fuck you, beg me to use you like my fucktoy!" His cock pistoned into her, his belly slapping into her ass as he jerked her back by her arms. "Tell all of them that Shrikee the Banshee is Malachi Hardin's personal fucktoy, and prove it by cumming on my thick dick while I fuck your brains out!"


    Will do, the loser replied.

    The room was dark when she arrived, dark and still and warm. The air held a faint odor, something floral and exotic, and a slight breeze moved through the darkness. The inside of the door was padded and velvety, as were the walls, and the floor was soft and yielding beneath Kaydia's feet. "Mistress Cordfay," a deep, husky voice said.

    Air stirred as someone or something moved, carrying the faint odor of fresh perspiration and cologne. "Your bodyguard put on quite a show," a second voice said. It was deep, but less deep than the first, and touched with a faint accent that rolled the r-sounds.

    "Indeed," said a third, a slightly raspy voice that stretched the syllables. "We had hoped to have you at our mercy, Mistress Cordfay. But now, we are at yours."

    "What would you have of us?" the first voice asked. "We are yours, for the agreed upon time."
     
    MMFF smut scene: Kaydia and anonymous patrons
  • Index
    • “Use –Ah! Use this filthy fuck toy, Malachi! Fill my cunt with a champion’s cum!” Shrikee screamed, voice raw. With her belly pressed into the rough ground and her back bent against his grip on her arms, it was damn difficult to fuck back against him as she wanted. As she needed. Instead, she struggled against his use of her, pulsing channel swallowing his meat in a rhythmic wet slap.

    “I’m Yours! Your…your fucktoy…” She grunted, watching the crowd watch her defeat with hungry eyes. “Just a…just a slut, for you to enjoy. A slut that enjoys this thick dick.”
    His demand that she cum was delightful, a sweet mercy in an arena where there was little mercy to be found. Or perhaps more torment, because her slit seized and convulsed in terrible bliss, and he didn’t give her any respite. Not once did his cock slow as she rippled over his shaft, dragging out maddening bliss that humiliated her in her sheer ecstasy. Thoughts and words dissolved into animal cries of lust, reducing her into naught but a bitch in heat, desperate for more cock.



    If she had wanted, she could have seen them through the force. Known every detail even better than if she’d seen them with her eyes. But she decided against it. Nothing knowing added a delicious thrill to the entire experience. A touch of nihilism she hadn’t craved since meeting Quentin, just fucking four strangers without a care or concern.

    “I would have…” The words caught as she felt Quentin pound Shrikee’s dripping cunt through their bond, and her own dripping cunt clenched in envy. “…pleasure.” She leaned back into one man, his chest firm as he supported her weight. Groping for his hands, she guided them toward her waist, inviting and encouraging him to caress her bare skin and underdress her. He was hard against her ass, straining his pants with his need, but she didn’t not permit him to relieve that pressure. Quentin’s dominant had inspired her as well. “Undress me, and worship my body. All those lovely curves you had looked forward to using.”

    Her top came off and another set of hands was cupping her breasts now. A man’s hands, though soft, and well cared for. Not a man used to working with his hands. His hands were soft and her nipples were hard, leaving Kaydia trembling at the delectable contrast.

    The air before her displaced, and a third set of hands worked down her tight slacks. Soft hands again, and Kaydia thought perhaps these were a woman’s. She couldn’t tell for sure, however, and didn’t care to find out too quickly. The mystery was too arousing as it were. Now one set of lips kissed and bit her shoulders, while another teased her mouth, hot tongue brushing over her own lips in a teasing, tempting supplication. Yet another mouth kissed down her abs, working lower as her panties slid down.

    She had detected in the force there were four heart beats in the room, but still she could only confirm three people exploring and adoring her body. Curious, she let herself melt into their attention for now. She’d have all of them, eventually.
     
  • Index
    • Quentin pulled out with a jerk as he felt his opponent clench around him, deciding - barely - to give the audience one more show. He heard Shrikee moan in sudden disappointment as he left her suddenly empty, left her on the edge of climax but not quite there. Then he stroked his aching meat across her ass once, giving in to his own pleasure. He gasped as he jerked in orgasm, watching the pearly stream of his cum arc in the air and splatter across her back. He continued pumping himself into the valley of her ass, gasping as his seed coated her skin and dripped down her waist and thighs. Finally, legs wobbly from release, he shoved her down into the sand as he pushed himself upright.

    "Get yourself off," he said, letting the last of his cum drip onto her skin from his softening cock. "You'll need to be a better opponent, before I'll let you get off on me."

    With that, as the crowd howled and roared in delight, he strode across the arena floor towards his dressing room.



    The unseen hands worked the last of Kaydia's clothes off, stroking and exploring her bare skin in the darkness. Lips and a tongue ghosted over the slick lips of her pussy, teasing her without entering her. Another mouth traced the curve of her ass, as two pairs of hands caressed her bare thighs. Soft lips, tasting of brandy and sugar, tasted her mouth before opening to allow her tongue to explore in turn. More hands cupped her breasts, gently squeezing and stroking as a hard body pressed against her back and a hot, hard cock pulsed gently against her ass.

    The hands lifted gently, encouraging her to go spread her thighs and sink to her knees. Hot breath washed across her slit, and soft, strong hands gripped her thighs. As a tongue parted her folds and gently explored her inner walls, the figure behind her pushed gently, encouraging her to rest her weight on her hands. Different lips tasted hers, lips flavored with lavender and honey, before the unseen face beneath hers slid lower. The figure arched as her lips closed around one of Kaydia's nipples, offering soft ripe breasts of her own as the unseen womain suckled her. Then a second mouth joined the one exploring her cunt, a mouth pressing up against her from behind as two tongues joined in sampling her juices and exploring her depths.
     
    Covered in sweat, dirt, and now, the seed of the victor, Shrikee was left utterly humiliated by the newcomer. Left to writhe for the arena audience, three fingers stuffed into her cunt, seeking a semblance of the orgasm she’d been denied. Malachi was a worthy opponent, and she looked forward to the next time she’d face him in the arena.



    Kaydia let herself melt into the pleasure of the room, savoring the attention from the four shadowy strangers. Nearly impossible to discern whose hands caressed her ass or held her hips. Which lips sucked on her breasts or tasted her cunt. Didn’t matter. After watching –and feeling– Quentin’s match, she was ready to get off, and she’d use everyone in this room to do so.

    So She tastes the breasts before her, imaging Shrikee’s perky tits as she did. The gladiator had been fucking hot, and felt amazing around Quentin’s cock, and Kaydia found herself wanted to go a round or two with her. The thought of it, combined with Quentin’s last teasing act, sent ripples of bliss through her body, trembling against her unseen paramours.

    “Fuck me,” she gasped, biting on the nearest nipple. A sweet voice yelped, but didn’t stop lick her own breasts. Meanwhile, the ones who had eaten her out shifted, sliding against her smooth skin to better align their bodies to hers. In the dark room, they required a lot of touching, hands and skin rubbing against each others, to find the right position.

    Now she kissed another set of lips, lips that tasted of her desire, while an unseen cock teased her cunt. The head parted her slippery lips, brushing back and forth but not entering her yet. Another cock also brushed her dripping lips, and for a moment, Kaydia was concerned (or hopeful?) that they both might try to fuck the same hole. But after a moment of teasing, one cock slide back, swearing her juices against the puckered ring of muscles, before pushing in, slow and steady. Once he filled her, the once beneath pulled her down his shaft as well.
     
    The unseen bodies around and within Kaydia shifted and moved, laying her back across a broad, bare muscular chest. Unseen lips hovered near her ear as her head hung down over a hard shoulder, nipping at her love. The hips beneath her rose and fell, moving a thick shaft within her ass, pushing her up and driving her deep onto the cock of the unseen man that drove slow, deep thrusts into her dripping cunt. Then a third cock brushed her lips, leaving a film of precum as a gentle thumb parted her mouth and encouraged her to accept his length.

    The Dark Room remained silent, save for the wet sounds of flesh moving against flesh and the gasps and grunts of pleasure uttered by the men fuckng Kaydia. Hands slid over her hips, her stomach and breasts, her throat and face, exploring and caressing her flesh. Someone pulled at her hair, encouraging her to lean her head back further and take the cock deeper into her throat. The man in her cunt angled as if leaning back, his shaft moving and pressing harder against her clit as he stroked within n her.

    Something else slid over her slit, then began to push inside. A firm, yielding rod of some sort, coated with a slick layer of lubricating gel. It joined the cock within her, stretching her walls, and then new hands moved over her as soft thighs straddled her hips and weight sank down the rod. The woman, from the feel of her generous hips and breasts as she leaned forward, riding the dildo and fucking it into the Jedi’s overstuffed cunt.

    The woman’s lips found her breasts, suckling and nipping at the tender skin. “Cum for us,” her sultry voice moaned, shockingly loud in the silence. “Cum for us.”
     
    Who used who, and who was used? The question hardly needed answering, as pleasure became the dominant sensation, shared and savored among the anonymous occupants of the dark room. Cock filled her body and pleasure filled her mind, leaving no room for rational thoughts or concerns. Fuck, it was agonizing and it was amazing and each heartbeat brought her closer to that moment where “too much” and “not enough” met.

    Once Kaydia succumbed, it didn’t take much more for her lovers to follow suit. Filling an already full cunt with copious cum, spilling out with each thrust that tried to pump more in her. More saturated her ass and throat, locked balls deep into her body, partaking of bliss and offering it freely.

    Covered in the climax of her companions, Kaydia staggered out of the room, taking advantage of the available fresher units, for the patrons. A simple, functional model, though she took note of the more elaborate setups, for the clients interested in slippery scenarios. She did enjoy taking Quentin while dripping wet.

    While she cleaned herself off, Kaydia reached for her husband through the force. Damn, you were fucking hot today. I doubt there was a dry pair of panties in that entire arena. To emphasize this point, Kaydia fingered herself, sending the sensation of her soaking snatch through their bond. You were so damn hot, they want you to come back for another round. Thought I’d check with you first, before offering you up again.
     
    Quentin was in the fresher, cleaning oil and cum from his skin when Kaydia’s thoughts joined him. Memories of Shrikee desperately beggars by him to fuck her her had mingled with the distant sensations of Kaydia’s climax and the after-bout invitations he’d received to leave him pleasantly aroused. But now? Well, the ghostly sensation of her slit slippery around his fingers shot straight through his cock. Damn, you were fucking hot today, she told him, I doubt there was a dry pair of panties in that entire arena.

    Gasping at the feel of her, he braced himself against the wall with one hand. Really? he replied, opening his sensations to her. Letting her feel the needles of hot water striking his chest and back and dripped down his skin. I mean, he added, letting her feel his own hand moving up and down his cock, I did get more than one offer to use one or more of the audience the way I used my opponent. With or without you present.

    In response he felt her fingers enter her snatch, and he let out a moan at the feel of her juices and anonymous cum dripping down her hand. You were so damn hot, she informed him, they want you to come back for another round.

    Really?. He wanted it to sound playful and speculative, but it came out hungry and eager. Because it had been fucking hot, and the memory of taking Shrikee on the arena floor while she begged to be fucked and Kaydia and the audience watched made his hand move harder and aster on his dick.

    Thought I’d check with you first, before offering you up again.. There was no missing the same heat and hunger in Kaydia’s thoughts, or the feel of the second and third finger that moved in her well-used slit in parallel with his own hand on his rigid meat.

    Well, he managed with some amusement, it would give us an excuse to hang around for a while.... Then, finding it hard to think clearly as he mastrubated, he let his thoughts linger on the sight and feel of Shrikee as he’d fucked her face. Let his wife feel his memories of the heat of the blond’s mouth and the friction of his hand on his cock as he stroked harder and faster. Let her feel the slick ca heat of the gladiator’s cunt as he’d used and humiliated her, let her...

    He cried aloud as he climaxed, his hand pumping up and down his pulsing cock as he lost himself in pleasure. Staring blindly upwards, he felt the water lash his skin and Kaydia’s hands on her body, and heard his grunts of pleasure and his seed splattering the fresher wall. Sagging against the tile, he felt the last of his cum drip over his hand as his cck slowly softened. Hurry back.
     
    Even after the pleasure of the dark room, Kaydia moaned form the memories Quentin shared with her. Already she’d wanted to fuck the blonde gladiator and feeling her through her bond with Quentin was not helping. Now, she imagined taking Shrikee with her husband, fucking her at the same time as Quentin, and experiencing his sensations as she did. That fantasy, of the gladiator squeezed between them as they used her for their own pleasure, that tight, firm body squeezing them in turn, drove her over the edge, echoes of Quentin’s climax shuddering through her.


    Shrikee sighed, trying to enjoy the heat of the shower on aching muscles. The pleasure weapons didn’t hurt, but the fights stilled exerted her. Not to mention the frustration Malachi left her with. Dammit, how could a new comer be so good at this, already? How did he already know how to compartmentalize his sensations like that, to resist his pleasure so? Was his Madame Cordfay that much of a ball-breaker?

    She must have been, Shrikee decided, remembering how he performed for her, specifically. He gripped her by the hair and make her look at his mistress, making an offering of his vanquished foe. She had to get a rematch, she just had to. Humiliate the man before his mistress. Fuck him, while staring into her eyes, and feast on her jealousy.

    Fuck, if she wasn’t getting wet again, but she’d be damned if she were going to masturbate again. No, she needed something hard in her. And she knew just where to find it.


    Kaydia found herself disappointed that Quentin was dressed by the time she reached his dressing room. And not in that delicious little arena number, either. Think they will let you borrow a couple of these weapons? Kaydia asked, running fingers down the blade he’d used earlier. You know, so you can practice before putting on another match. Visions of the sparring they already practiced on a regular basis arrived at the forefront of her mind, but which the pleasure weapons instead, seeking to drive each other made with need as they strained and writhed against one another. It’s really too bad I can’t join you in the arena as your partner.
     
    Quentin’s legs shook as he finished his shower, and his whole body ached by the time he finished drying off. The pleasure fields altered the nature of the sensory input, but they did nothing about the fatigue and soreness that came from the exertions in the arena. Or, for that matter, about the pace n from the various bruises and scrapes he’d accrued in the fight. Shrikee had been a far more skilled opponent than he’d expected and her fighting style, although it would have gotten her killed in a real fight, was well adapted to the demands of the arena.

    His back twinged, driving away further thoughts of the blonde Amazon. Instead, he cleared his mind and began a series of stretches he’d learned as a child, working out kinks until he could move freely once more. It wasn’t as pleasant as a massage, but it was more effective. Finally, sore but able to move, he got himself dressed.

    The door hissed open as he finished buttoning his shirt. Kaydia, from her scent and her presence in the Force. He listened to her cross the room, then cocked his head curiously as she stopped. Think they will let you borrow a couple of these weapons?

    Well. Thatthought went right through him, hard enough that he suddenly had to adjust too-tight trousers. They might, he allowed, turning to find her slowly stroking the blade he’d used in the arena. The sudden image of his wife wielding one as the sparred and how good the sex would becafterwards, flickered through his mind.

    You know, she continued, still stroking the blade, so you can practice before putting on another match.. And fuck, she was imagining it too. He could feel it. It’s really too bad I can’t join you in the arena as your partner.

    Slowly crossing the room, he shrugged off an urge to take her then and there. To push her against the weapon rack and let her feel cool steel against bare skin as he fucked her deep and hard. Instead, he lifted a sword from the rack. “They really are remarkable,” he said. “Although, without either the matching implants or feedback attachments, they’re blunt clubs of steel.” He grimaced slightly, showing a bruise on his forearm. “And you can still get hurt.”

    He made a pass with the blade. “Still, you’ve been making great progress in your weapon training,” he continued, enjoying her reaction to his words. “Maybe you’d like to try a practice bout or two, now that you’ve seen them in action?” He paused, just a moment. “I can promise you I’ll take it easy on you.”
     
    All sorts of fun ideas filled Kaydia’s mind, feed by the fantasies she sensed from Quentin. Teasing with pleasure weapons while they enjoyed one another. Mixing cool steel with heated flesh. Sparring that turns into wrestling until one of them is pinned down, forced to submit to the desires of the winner.

    Maybe you’d like to try a practice bout or two, now that you’ve seen them in action?” He paused, just a moment. “I can promise you I’ll take it easy on you.”

    “Oh, will you now?” Kaydia asked, emphasizing the provocation in her voice. Clearly, it was for any possible voyeurs, since, like all of the areas of the Velvet Hour, his room was likely being recorded. There was a time when he was better than her with a blade, but, over the course of their marriage, she’d caught up to his skill. Nowadays, their sparring lasted until neither could resist, and they tore each other’s clothes off in a mad need to occupy the same body. That was likely why Quentin proved so adept in the arena.

    Kaydia picked up a blade, getting a feel for its weight by swinging it by her wrist. Solid, heavier than her saber by a kilo or two. “I can’t promise I will be easy on you, in return,” she teased, taking up a fighting stance. “Especially not if I win.”

    Before he was ready, she darted in to strike.



    The dull ring of steel on steel caught Shrikee’s attention, and she peered into the dressing room. The sight before her was a shock. Madame Cordfay, pressing back Malachi’s advance. The thought that the businesswoman could not only match her head of security, but counter him as well? Unthinkable. Who was she, really? Who were they? Nothing added up.

    His style emphasized counter attacks and parries, using the opponent’s momentum against them. An advanced style, requiring decades of experience to wield effectively. Or the enhanced reflexes of a Jedi. Her style mixed weapon strikes with close quarter combat maneuvers, following up each strike with a secondary attack that was nearly impossible to avoid. Together, their attacks and dodges were an impeccably choreographed dance, moving in impossible precision and coordination. A conversation without words, just the witty repartee of parries and feints and the banter of deadlocks and grapples.
     
    Quentin gasped as Kaydia’s blade struck his arm, numbing his fingers for a second and sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock. He hadn’t seen that feint coming, and now he’d be short a forearm if this had been a saber duel. It wasn’t, though, and now he was even more aroused. Which made remaining open to the Force more difficult - not that it helped all that much. He kept wanting to take a hit, which made the split-second precognition of a duel a double-edged sword.

    Kaydia came in low and then thrust high. This time he was ready, catching and angling her blade away with a screech of steel on steel. His blade whispered along hers as he drove his point into her breastbone with bruising force, and her moan mingled with the taste of the arousal that flar d in her mind. Before she could recover he stepped to her side, dragging the steel along the line of her ribs. Then her again know impacted the pit of his stomach, making his cock throb painfully. She spun and he grabbed her wrist, immobilizing her arm before she could bring her sword into play. When she did the same to him, he used his greater mass to slam her hard into the weapon rack that covered the wall.

    “Ready to yield, Nyamelo?” he growled, gasping in pleasure as he slammed his forehead into hers. He hoped she wasn’t. They’d had rough sex before after sparring, and the idea of taking her by force with the sense fear on was intoxicating.


    These two aren’t human! Shrikee thought, biting her lip. They can’t be!

    Despite how turned on she was, she’d gotten lost in watching the duel. By now, she knew, one of them should have been a quivering mass begging to be fucked. Both of them had taken hits that would have wrecked even her own discipline. Both of them!. Malachi she like just about understand - a bodyguard had to be willing to face injury and even death to protect the client, so maybe that gave the mental discipline to endure the pleasure-weapons. Maybe. But Nyamelo Cordfay was just a rich businesswoman and, ball-buster or not, that couldn’t give someone that kind of discipline. Could it?

    Jedi.

    The thought was absurd. Sure, Malachi’s fighting style reminded her of the few times she’d seen footage of a Jedi using a lightsaber. Hell, Nyamelo’s style did as well. But... surely not. Not the way Malachi had fucked her in the arena. Not the way these two were probably going to fuck any minute now. Surely not. Jedi didn’t do that. But... it made sense.

    Then the sound of Malachi head butting his employer as he slammed her into a weapon rack caught her attention. Fuck. She wanted to fuck. Either of them. Both of them.
     
    The impact of Quentin’s head bashing into hers left Kaydia dizzy, needling at her will power to resist him. She moved into his space, their bodies touching now. Her own blade grazed her shoulder, drawing a shudder from her. Still, she managed to slip her leg between his, hooking her ankle behind his. Tripping him, he landed hard on the floor, and she landed hard on top of him, his cock jabbing her.

    She cried out, half disappointed he hadn’t impaled her on his shaft, and channeled that frustration into quick punches into his ribs. After a couple connected, he grabbed her wrist and reached for the other. Somehow, she evaded, reaching over him for the blade she dropped when he headbutted her. He bit her breast at that, sending a burning jolt of ecstasy through her nerves.

    Refusing to concede, she called the blade to her hand, caressing his cheek with smooth metal. Fuck, his cock throbbed at that, twitching wildly against her thigh. “Ready to give up now, Malachi?” She cooed, pressing the blade under his chin to make him look into her eyes. As she awaited the answer, she became aware of another heartbeat nearby.

    Shit, I think someone is watching us.




    Holy shit, Nyamelo was a Jedi! There was no mistaking the way she made the weapon fly into her hand, the same way Jedi were known to do. Was Malachi a Jedi as well? Dammit, why did that thought make them even hotter?

    But what would two (or, at the very least, one) Jedi doing here, engaging in erotic gladiatorial combat? And how could she use this information to her benefit?
     
    Shit. I think someone is watching us.

    Kaydia’s thoughts cut through the pleasant haze of adrenaline and arousal. He was still turned on and horny as hell, and an audience really didn’t bother him. But that clearly wasn’t what she meant. Somebody was watching. Someone who might have seen Kaydia call on the Force, or who might be wondering why and how Nyamelo Cordfay was every bit as skilled and disciplined as her bodyguard. Right. Move.

    Kaydia rolled left and he rolled right, tapping a wrist control that ordered the security drones onto full alert. If he didn’t signal again every 45 seconds, they’d arrive with extreme prejudice. “Who’s there?” he called, opening his senses. The scent and heartbeat sounded familiar. “There. Behind the door. Come in. Slowly.”

    The door opened. Quentin tensed, ready to act, and then... “Shrikee?”

    Clad in a topped top and leggings, the blonde gladiator looked different than she had in the arena. Less on display and more real. Far more concerned, he realized as well. No, not concerned. Scared. “Uhm... hi?” she said nervously, offering a little wave.

    Quentin tapped his wrist control, putting the droids back on standby. “Why are you here?”

    Shrikee swallowed nervously, glancing from him to Kaydia and back. “I, uhm, I wanted to, you know...” Fingers twisted in her hair nervously. “I was still, uhm, really wound up. After the match, I mean. And I figured I’d come and, well, you know.” She made a little gesture. “Fuck. Just for fun. But then I saw you two, and...”

    She fell silent, swallowing nervously as she glanced at Kaydia’s blade. “Only... only Jedi could do that. And, uhm...”. A mixture of fear and curiousity flared in her. “Why would Jedi be here? And, why...?” A vague gesture towards the arena. “Why... here?”
     
    Kaydia stood erect, trying to slip into her businesswoman persona, but guarded. Defensive. Shit, had she blown this entire mission in a single stupid moment? Maybe this was the reason the council forbade such relationships between Jedi.

    That wasn’t important now. Shrikee, and her probing questions, was important. How honest could they be? Kaydia glanced over to Quentin before sighing. “We are investigating a possible slave trading ring, operating out of the Velvet Hour.”

    Shrikee nodded, showing no surprise on her features. “I don’t know anything specific, but I’ve had my suspicions.” Then she shook her head, shedding her earlier fear in a light laugh, “You two sure do get into character to stay undercover though, don’t you?”

    Kaydia simpered, “Not all Jedi follow the rules about celibacy or relationships. But enough do that giving in allows us to better maintain cover.”

    “Well, it sounds like you need someone on the inside then,” Shrikee suggested, cocking her body so one hand was on her hip. “Maybe we can help each other out.”

    “Do you need help escaping this life?” Kaydia placed a gentle hand on Shrikee’s shoulder, “We can get you out, and set up somewhere safe.”

    Shrikee laughed, “Nah, I like doing this, and I am damn good at it. So long as I don’t have to go up against a Jedi.” She gave Quentin a look. “Nah, my problem is that most of my winnings go to my manager. Plus, I could make a lot more money if I was allowed to take clients like an escort, by trading on my gladiatorial fame. So I want Madame Cordfay to buy my contract.”

    Kaydia blinked twice, before turning toward Quentin. “You’re the one that manages our expenses. Can we swing it?”
     
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