It's been roughly four Galactic months since Melarue and Solana were purchased by

their new Sith Master, Darth Nekron, and exactly two months and a week since they
were assigned to Darth Atrius. They had participated in three missions with the
Zabrakian Sith in that time, and had come to know him to be a confident man who
preferred action over words. Cruel, but fair, and all too willing to kill and harm
those who displeased him.Now, aboard the Basilisk, Atrius' personal ship, they were
en route to the site of their latest mission. The crew had all been briefed and
dismissed to their various stations before Atrius even stepped foot aboard the
Basilisk with his two toys at his side. Now, still several hours out from their
destination, he finally summons the pair to the main cabin.When they enter, he does
not face them. Instead, he stands on a slightly raised command platform looking at
various readouts beside a galactic map projecting their route. He wears only the
bottom half of the Sith Warrior Robes he is accustomed to, his broad, muscled back
on display. Dark, twisting tattoos common to the Zabrak curl over his rust red
flesh while a pair of sabers hang from his belt on either side of his hips.
"Kneel," he intones in his sonorous, almost unnaturally deep voice. He says nothing
more, nor does he turn to face the pair. He only waits for their obedience,
expecting it in the same way he expects the sun to rise over Korriban.
It has been a long while since Melarue and Solana knew freedom, and they were
beginning to feel as bound in subjugation as they were a decade past, when all they
knew were the sterile walls and the cold hands associated with a laboratory. Now
both nineteen, they were becoming accustomed to ship life, but not as quickly and
efficiently as one would hope. Especially after enjoying the liberty of surviving
as street rats on the harsh planet of Tattooine, the suffocating closeness of a
small ship felt like a return to bad memories. Still, this was their hope. This was
the way. They could serve and strive to see the sunlight again, or resist and end
up blood splatters on the duraplast wall. Damn explosive implants. At least the
missions were exciting. Or at least, that's how Melarue saw it. Solana saw it as
just another way they could die in service to a sadistic overlord. But the previous
three missions were memorable, to say the least.Entering the cabin, Melarue and
Solana squeeze hands, walking side by side, and glance into respective aqua blue
eyes. They both needed the courage. Darth Atrius was fair, but also terrifyingly
cruel when he got into one of his moods. They let go their hands, making the rest
of the way across the Bridge, and each falls into a kneeling crouching. In unison,
they bow their heads and proclaim, "yes, Master." Both wear the same uniform - a
blood red and black shirt-skirt combination, black tights, sturdy black ankle-high
boots, and of course a slender and unassuming silvery stun collar. Melarue has her
hair back in a ponytail, as she tends to style it, while Solana graces her shorter-
cut locks with a small silver pin beside her right temple. They both appear quite
crisply garbed, although Solana's cheeks glow reddish like she just arrived from
exercise, and her nostrils flare to muffle the sounds of her heavier breaths. As
for Melarue, the knees of her tights are very subtly dirty, likely from all the
cleaning she tends to do around the ship.Their heads remain bowed, patient and
quiet, waiting for as long as their Sith Lord deigns them to do so.
Atrius remains silent as he pours over the readouts in front of him, red eyes
flicking from one screen to the next and back again. Eventually he grunts and waves
his hand, the Force rippling out from his fingers to toggle the various switches
required to send a holographic projection to the central briefing table.It flickers
to life and displays the exterior of a facility embedded into an icy cliff bearing
the symbol of the Sith Empire. "My Master has given us a task," he states simply,
as if their could be any confusion as to why they had been dispatched, "One of his
rivals, another Dark Lord, has taken several Republic officers captive. Among them
is one of my Master's spies, still undercover. We are to extract him -- or failing
that, recover what information he had acquired and eliminate him. It is of
paramount importance that my Master's rival does not get his hands on this intel."
He steps up to the projector and presses a few buttons, pushing the camera in as
the icy cliff is cut away to reveal a cross-section of the facility."We will enter
the facility under the guise of diplomacy, one of you will entertain the guards,
and the other will accompany me into the prison block to complete our objective."
As he speaks, he manipulates the holographic map to highlight first a control
station, and then the cells. Finished, he reaches his hands out to draw his fingers
lightly beneath the chins of either sister, stroking them gently as he would a pet
to tilt their heads up and bring their eyes to his. Whatever care they might have
interpreted through his touch appears utterly absent in his glowing gaze and the
faint frown on his lips as he asks: "Questions?"
The girls remain obsequiously kneeling no matter how long their owner - or their
owner's current leash-holder - remains captivated by his readouts. Melarue tends to
be the least patient between the sisters, and this can be noticed in the way she
shifts or winces or rolls her shoulders. Meanwhile, Solana is like a statue. The
most she does is briefly share a warning glance with her darker-haired sibling.At
length, while Melarue looks on at Atrius' magic powers with amazement and Solana
does so with wariness, they listen to the description of their upcoming mission
with notably different reactions. Melarue's shoulders slump - she's been taking
these dark deeds a little harder than her sister. A sister whom, at present, is in
Mission Mode, and nodding her head like she were more a soldier than a slave.
Solana speaks for the both of them when she offers a monotonous, "yes, Master."They
share another glance, and a silent conversation passes between them. It's Solana
that says, "if I may, Master, I would like to accompany you to the prison block."
Melarue breathes out the tiniest sigh of relief, despite the heavy tone of
reluctance in her words to murmur, "and I will distract the guards, Master..."
Neither fully meets Darth Atrius' gaze - they normally would not dare. When he
caresses their chins, however, they take this as indication such a thing may be
allowed. Melarue looks up gloomily, but Solana stares up with clear resolve -
almost glaring.Hesitantly, Melarue inquires, "a-and the Republic officers, Master?
If they are found together, I mean?"Solana adds, "how will we know which is the spy
and which are the Republic officers?"
Atrius is no fool. He had taken notice of Melarue's reluctance to embrace the
darker aspect of their tasks and Solana's hard resolve on their very first mission.
So when they speak, he looks to them each in turn with a distinct lack of
compassion. Without warning, he suddenly reaches back and lands a stinging blow
with the back of his hand to Solana's cheek with all the speed and measured weight
of a well-trained warrior as he keeps dispassionate eyes on Melarue. "You must
learn how to speak to your betters," he tells the dark-haired sister as he yanks
Solana's head back with fingers twisted in her hair. A common tactic of his,
punishing one for the other's mistake. "Your sister asks for permission as she
should. Follow her example."Still gripping Solana by her hair, he looks down to
meet her gaze, looking no more affected by the sudden burst of violence than if he
had come across a particularly curious insect. "You will distract the guards," he
tells her in direct opposition to their request. "And you," he begins as he casts
his gaze over to Mel, "Will accompany me to recover the spy. You will leave the
identification of the spy to me."
Solana never saw it coming. One moment, she was kneeling before the current in what
seemed a long line of Masters - the next, the world was tilting sideways and her
body weighed a whole lot more than it did a moment ago. She has her hands set flat
on the cold durasteel, body sprawled sideways, and her face was hot for more than
whatever reason flustered her complexion before the meeting. Worse, she felt a warm
swelling on the very leftmost corner her lips, and could hear the almost
imperceptible patter of blood droplets rolling down her chin and splattering across
the floor - the trademark iron tang pulsing across her tongue. She looks up, eyes
wide and face contorted with anger - and then fear to feel the abrupt sting of
pressure tugging hard at her scalp. She winces and groans, head arching back and
eyes lidding half-shut.Melarue looks on in abject horror, face paling. Her hands
curl into fists and a rush of adrenaline flows up her spine. Eyes wide and mouth
agape, she watches as her sister is dragged up by her short-cropped white hair,
then her blue eyes flicker up to the Zabrak and she bobs her head fervently, "y-
yes, Master. Yes, Master." Her eyes sting, the warning of tears. "I will ask for
permission in the future. Please, please Master, have mercy." Her voice cracks at
the last, turning to look on in sorrow at her poor sister and the cut on the corner
of her lip.For Solana's part, she groans softly, though she eventually manages to
will her mind to focus and stare up at the Zabrak. Pain shoots through her scalp
and throbs at her lip when she flatly states, aqua blue eyes full of hatred and
outrage, fueled by the pain, "yes, Master."Melarue shifts and lowers her gaze,
"it...it is as you say, Master." A quick glance towards her poor sibling. "I will
come with you to...m-meet the officers." After that, aside from the tear rolling
down Melarue's cheek and the occasional grunts of pain from Solana, the sisters
fall silent and submissive.
For the first time since they were summoned, Atrius shows a flash of emotion as
Solana affixes him with those eyes full of hatred and outrage and pain. A cruel
smile turns the corners of his lips upwards as he abruptly pulls her by her hair up
to meet him even as he bends slightly at the waist. His lips find hers and steal a
hungry kiss from her swelling lip, his tongue lashing out to lick the blood from
her and taste the iron and her mingling together. "You should practice," he tells
her as he drags her away from his mouth and shoves her away from him, fingers
unlacing from her hair. "You will start by stripping for the guards, then you will
allow them to fuck you in turns. You must go slow, make it last as long as you can
to give your sister and me as much time as possible." This is apparently her
indication to 'practice' stripping as he gestures for the area just across the
holographic table.In the meantime, without even looking to her, he reaches down and
grips Mel by the throat and drags her up onto her feet, turning her around to face
her sister before he forcefully bends her over the table and into the hologram
image of the prison complex which disperses. "Do it well," he tells Solana as he
slowly guides Mel's wrists back to cross over her lower back and then pin them in
place, "Or it will be your sister who suffers for your failure."
Seeing that malicious grin on Darth Atrius' face sends a chill of unease through
Solana's frame. She does not like that smile, and never will. It only reveals
malice. She can feel the tug on her hair tighten, enough to shift the pain in her
scalp into higher gear, and send her hands racing in an instinctive need to pry the
grip away - she even dares attempt to do exactly that. But then he presses his lips
to her, and she whimpers from the pain igniting across her throbbing mouth, sensing
the lash of his tongue glide over the cut, the bright and wet heat of his
intrusion.She staggers and crashes back, the grip on Solana's hair no more, and
just barely shifts so she lands on the padding of her rear rather than the base of
her spine. With a gasp, she stares up, shackles risen, to listen to the following
command. Hands holding her up as she sprawls indecently there, her features darken
at the lewd imagery described of her imminent future. She looks aside, but nods,
"yes, Master." At his gesture, she rises unsteadily, then glances to her sister on
her way around the table.Melarue watches this exchange with a nigh-permanent
expression of misery plastered over her features. Her eyes betray an expectation
for further cruelty, almost waiting to see how far Darth Atrius will go with her
poor sister this time. It's almost a small mercy when she's let go and told to
strip, but then she has her own situation to deal with. She elicits a whimper of
surprise as a hand abruptly latches around her lithe throat, just above her icy
stun collar, and urges her up. She doesn't give him the chance to hurt her,
hurriedly slipping her legs under her and pushing up to follow the grip wrapped
iron-firm about her neck. She catches Solana's gaze, then bends down over the
table, wincing at the brightness of the holovid flashing across her vision.
Obediently, sniffling softly while the ventilation brushes chilly fingers over the
single tear on her cheek, she lets their Lord take her by the wrists and cross them
at the small of her back. Then, she looks up. At one point, she might have shied
away from seeing Solana perform - or vice-versa - but they've found it much more
manageable if they can meet each other's eyes, remember they're in this together,
and that nothing their Masters do will ever lessen the implicit love they have for
each other. So, she watches, and gives her sister as much support with her presence
as can be provided. Certainly, this is more than either of them will have on-
mission.Solana arrives at the opposite side of the table, rubbing the back of one
hand over her mouth and chin to rub off most of the blood. Then, she slowly begins
unbuttoning the front of her dress uniform, each button freed revealing more of her
Arkanian-pale soft skin and the seemingly uncharacteristically girly pink of her
lacy bra, supporting smallish breasts. All the while, she presses her tongue
against the cut on her lip, stemming the flow while progressively more of her
physique appears to her Master's lascivious gaze.
"Not good enough," Their Master claims as he suddenly reaches a hand beneath Mel's
skirt, grabs her tights, and yanks them down to about her mid thighs, flicking her
skirts up to sit above her waist as he brings his hand back up. Without hesitation,
without even pulling his eyes away from Solana, he swings his palm down to land a
hard, stinging slap to Mel's bare ass. "You go slowly, but you do not entertain.
You will be before at least a half dozen guards, Slave. Keep their attention, or
watch as I fuck your dear sister's ass raw. Perform well enough, and I must just
fuck her throat, first." It may not sound like much, but any amount of lubrication
would be a blessing compared to taking the Zabrak's large cock dry.Even as he waits
for Solana to step up her efforts, his hand continues to roam Mel's cheek before it
abruptly swings back and delivers another punishing spank followed swiftly by a
third. "And you," he starts, his voice clearly canted down towards the dark-haired
girl in his grip, "Get your cunt ready for your Master. If you're lucky and your
sister does especially well, I might just fuck you there instead. Would you like
that, you little whore?"
Melarue sips in a breath of surprise. Bent down like she is, she can't see what's
really going on behind her, as suddenly digits rub up harshly between her thighs,
grab hold of her tights, and tug them down to mid-thigh. This reveals the simple
synth-silk black pair of hipster panties, and the pert rounds of her alabaster rear
end. She can also feel the subtle weight - and open-air chill - of her skirt
flipping up. That earlier sip inwards becomes a yelp outwards as a heavy hand rings
down on her butt, and a stinging pain resolves alongside the bright pinkness
emerging along her flesh. Instantly, a cold sweat prickles along her brow, but she
looks up at her sister and locks gazes for support. She whimpers and shifts
slightly, to hear what to expect, but she bravely sets her jaw. Solana might often
act like the big sister, but that doesn't mean Mel can't be bold and brave
too.Solana sees the look on her sister's face, wincing at the cacophonous sound of
that smack, and nods her head. "Yes, Master." She sets her jaw too, but continues
with her chore, digits slipping in to pull and tug at buttons and further reveal
her chest. Half to obey Darth Atrius and half to encourage her sibling, she sends
one of her hands down, sliding across the partially opened top to tuck against her
skirts in a provocative, slutty way. She rolls her hips and gasps dramatically,
looking away shamefully as heat rushes to her cheeks - most of the men she's fucked
have been so efficient with her body, to the point where playing with herself
occurred only rarely. Besides, she usually tended to take charge at some point
within the exchange, in an effort to win back some power. This girly, coquettish
act was far more her sister's forte, but she works her hips suggestively against
her hand, skirts whisking and swaying about her during the seductive strip tease.
Adding a small nibble of her lip and nudging the last button free of her top, she
tucks a shoulder in and urges one sleeve free, then does the same with the other.
Tenderly, both now-bared arms join at her inner thighs, rubbing herself firmly for
a few idle moments, then her hands slide upwards, and bit by bit, the uniform dress
slips from her figure, to fall into a pool at her feet. There's a very large and
obvious wet patch across the crotch of her tights, as her hands lift again to cup
and stroke her own bra-clad breasts.Meanwhile, Melarue gasps softly with the second
then the third arrival of her Master's powerful hand striking her ass like a hammer
strikes an anvil. Already, her rump burns, and she tries to keep the tears from
falling. She also continues to stare at her sister, keeping their gazes locked for
as long as they both need it. She flinches at the whisper lashing hot breath over
her ear, then replies with a meek little nod, "y-yes, Master. I...would like that."
She hopes Darth Atrius does not register the pause, but as soon as he lets up with
at least one of her arms, she's slipping it down beneath her bent-over body and
into her panties, hips gyrating as her fingers locate her mons and she rubs herself
quietly - trying to focus her attentions on passion and pleasure, and not the
growing sense of dread that she might be ridden raw.
For a long moment, Atrius watches Solana with a dead-eyed expression as he keeps
one of Mel's arms still pinned to her back while the other hand rests possessively
on her ass. Then finally, in that unnaturally sonorous voice, he states simply:
"Satisfactory." No permission is given to stop, but apparently her efforts are much
better received than they were a moment ago. Still, despite her receiving some
measure of approval from the Sith, there's clearly a hint of disappointment in his
gaze as he watches her. His Master told him that he must use both the stick and the
carrot, and if a reward was promised, it must be given. It was the only way to
train pets, the only way they learned. Unfortunately for him, it means that he
would not get the opportunity to fuck Mel's ass raw and listen to her cry out in
pain.No matter, he would still enjoy his time with the dark-haired slave. "Keep
going," he orders, though to whom he's talking isn't clear -- likely both -- as he
releases Mel's ass and works the leather belt holding his robes and sabers in place
off his hips. He carefully sets it down behind him, ensuring the blades were well
out of reach of either slave and well within his before he simply worked the dark
warrior's robes off his waist. Unlike them, he wears nothing beneath as he steps
out of the raiment and kicks it backwards to join the belt. His zabrakian cock is
already at half-mast, heavy and weighted but still soft enough to rest over his
bald balls. The tattoos on his body continue down and over his shaft, working into
the fleshy ridges beneath.He releases Mel briefly, shifting his hand from her wrist
to her hair as he pulls her back off the table and turns her around before shoving
her to her knees. She should need no instruction and so he gives none. If she
doesn't take the opportunity given to her, then he won't have gone back on his
promised reward, after all...
Solana's shoulders ease their tension - she hadn't realized her body felt tense to
begin with, until now. She didn't want her sister to feel any pain, even if she was
trying to be brave about this whole situation. A submissive nod to continue, and
she hears Mel echo her, "yes, Master." She returns to rubbing herself through her
tights with one hand, while the other squeezes and kneads the fleshy surfaces of
her breasts through the pink bra. The hand dipped between her thighs quickly
becomes wet and sticky as she pushes and prods at the fabric concealing her sex.
Her head tilts upwards and she offers a mostly dramatized moan, eyes shifting to
gaze with almost mock arousal at her Master. Her hand slips from her chest and
thumbs curl under the waist of her tights, tugging them down just enough to show
the glistening wetness across her neatly-trimmed patch of white pubic hair. But
then she hides herself again under those tights, swaying her hips and fluttering
her belly like she was dancing some erotic jig. Finally, she pulls her tights down
again, her pink and white thong following, until both rest coiled around her knees.
The pulling-down reveals yet more of her wet sex, as well as a clingy string of
arousal bridging the gap between her thong and bright pink nether lips. The line of
gluey arousal falls apart once her tights reach mid-thigh, and begins to drool
lazily down her thigh to rejoin her rolled-down undergarments.Melarue only has just
enough time to observe the quick peek before she's made to move on to other things.
She feels that hand on her burning ass, which does little to relieve the stinging
sensation from being thrice-spanked, and her free hand works at her pussy under the
cover of her panties. But then their Master gets himself undressed behind her, and
she's soon dragged up by her hair like a leash and made to fall to her knees before
the half-hard cock staring her in the face. Her hand still tucked into her panties,
playing with her clit and even gyrating her hips, but the other rises to curl
around his girth almost as soon as she sees it. She barely offers the unlit hilts a
single glance - she's long since learned something like that would be futile. Even
if she and her sister somehow managed to fight off all the crew - an almost
impossible task - they would still have to find a way to do so without any of them
triggering the explosive implant, and then find a way to safely remove it before
Darth Nekron caught onto their escape and activated it himself. So, she firms her
grip on the ridged Zabrakian cock and opens her mouth to give it a good wash.
She'll need it. She does not dare refuse him, for her own sake if nothing else. Her
lips touch base on his tip, and she conjures up enough spit to slather around that
sweltering head, replacing the taste of his sweat with the slickness of her saliva.
Moments more, and she's deep-throating him, head nodding side to side to take him
in until she's gagging, then pulling out. She gingerly draws in first one bald
ball, and then the other, sucking gently as she stares up at her owner from beneath
the weight and heft of his cock. Her tongue slips out, and she licks him from his
root, just beneath his balls, all the way to the head, and then swallows him whole
once more, lower lip rolling along the ridged underside of his angry red shaft.