Zira Darkstar

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A/N: Thanks for the few reviews. The next chapter could be a while in posting because I have to make final decisions on a few of the plot devices. Also: This chapter is my first writen sexual stuff, so please, R&R so I can figure out how to improve.
~Beta'd by: Envy~
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Chapter 3

Bastila wearily shook her head and hit the eject button on the main hatch of the escape pod and crawled from it’s wreckage. Even with her command over the Force, that landing was enough to rattle anyone. No. A normal person would have died from that. She amended to herself as she drew herself up to her full height.

If she hadn’t managed to brace herself from the trauma using the Force, she surely would have died simply from the turmoil of decent. Of this she was quite certain. Something had come loose inside the cabin as she’d tumbled down through Taris’ many walkways and streets, something sharp.

Her heavy hand fell limply to her side, where the brunt of the pain was emanating from. Pain shot through her once more, causing a sense of nausea to course through her. She suddenly felt heavier then her
legs could hold and fell to her knees, throwing up on the ground before her.

She groaned a bit annoyed and looked down to what had so abruptly reduced her to this. A large piece of shrapnel had broken free from the innards of the pod and found it’s way home in her abdomen, just above the hip. The assailant was a square piece of durasteel nearly the size of her lightsaber.

Painfully, she drew herself into a kneeled position, pushing up from all fours. You will not defeat me. She defiantly thought at the mutinous shard. She calmed her breathing and placed her right hand tentatively on the exposed end. The calming breath gave her enough time to call the Force to her, and she used it’s strength as she quickly pulled the shrapnel free of her body.

That was a mistake. She wryly thought to herself as the galaxy seemed to expand explode in her vision. The metal had indeed been the size of a lightsaber. And it wasn’t nearly as square as she’d led herself to believe. Should have taken the time to secure the clip on this during decent.

The instrument of her greatest triumph, her proof of her Jedi training, had become the instrument of her despair at the moment. She couldn’t prevent the small rush of annoyance, anger, and rage that burned in the pit of her stomach, and she violently threw the newly rebuilt saber from her presence. She angrily mulled over thoughts of simply building a new one, to be done with the villainous one she’d been attacked by.

She’d nearly been slain by Revan in the battle, and that had led her to the conclusion that perhaps the fault lie in the saber. Bastila herself knew that the fault couldn’t be her own. She had never received any negative input, from any of the JedI Masters she’d trained with. Vrook, Vandar, Zez-Kai El, and even Kavar had all praised her wielding of a lightsaber. Surely not all of the Masters would have done so if she hadn’t been a match for Revan.

That’s why they chose me to lead the strike force against Revan. They knew that I alone stood a chance against his wicked might. She proudy recollected. So seeing as the fault had been with the weapon, she had felt the need to remodel it. It wasn’t hard to obtain the new lens or crystal; she had elected to maintain the proud yellow that Sentinels used. The only true modification she’d done, was she went with double bladed saber so that she would be able to move more fluidly. When the Masters form a plan for me to face Malak, I’ll need every advantage I can get.

In the moment’s she’d been remembering why she’d changed her lightsaber and praised herself for the good deeds she’d brought the galaxy, she was also drawing the Force to her. She was almost completely in command over the pathetic injury that was now just an annoyance to the, soon to be, Master Jedi.

She was so in tune with the Force, in fact, that she sensed her rescuer. Surely the presence that was now cautiously closing upon her was some Tarisian do-gooder who wanted to assist a beautiful woman in need. She opened her eyes and turned to look at her good Samaritan, a soft and peaceful smile spreading serenely across her delicate lips.

“Hello, I’m Bastila.” She started, proud of how controlled she’d kept her voice, despite the injury. “I will be fine, if you just happen to have a spare medpac avail-” She felt something heavy connect with the base of her skull and everything went black.

*****

What felt like several hours later, Bastila wearily opened her eyes and tried to rub them. She felt something cold tug against her wrist as she went to move her hand however. She blinked away the fuzz that clouded her vision and focused on her wrists, which were now bound together above her head.

A pair of crude metal binders had been put on her and then attached to some kind of framework above her head. She called upon the Force to bring all of her heightened senses to bear. It only took a moment of relieving the haze that dulled her senses to realize that she was laid down on a soft surface and bound at the wrists to what she could only assume was the headboard of a luxurious bed.

The pain in her side was practically gone, meaning whoever this was must have treated her wound. Of course, they must have recognized me and been a bit intimidated. Not surprising considering I am one of the most famous and brilliant Jedi of the order currently. She was sure that whoever it was had simply chained her out of a small sense of fear that common folk often experienced when Jedi were involved.

She looked down at herself, as best she could, and realized that she had been stripped of her clothing and bound at the ankles as well. Unlike her hands though, her feet were spread out to either side and chained at the far edges of the bed, causing her long smooth legs to be spread a bit more uncomfortably. Extremely cautious. She was starting to have her doubts of the sincerity of her host.

It was then, that she heard a door latch disengage and draw open. She could hear the sound of the quick metal gears pulling the door aside with a soft whirl. A tall man with dark skin walked into the room confidently, and strolled over to the bedside. “The great Jedi Bastila, I presume.”

“You presume much,” Bastila stated coldly, trying to figure out how he knew her. Of course, her reputation preceded her, and she might have been surprised if this man hadn’t heard of her. “Where am I?” She stated in a calm, cold demand.

A wicked sneer played across the man’s features as he looked down at her. “Taris.”

Well, no shit. “What I mean to say is where on Taris?” She deliberately kept her tone smooth, even. This brigand wouldn’t see a bit of weakness. Not from her, a Jedi.

“My little slice of heaven, love. Don’t worry, you’ll be kept company while you’re here.”

Bastila could read what the man inferred in his voice and wasn’t about to let this happen. Fool has no idea who I really am. Apparently name isn’t enough, I will need to demonstrate my abilities for him. She looked him dead in the eye and stated, very plainly, “You don’t want to keep me here. You will release me and return my possessions.”

The man broke into a cold chortle. “Oh I will, will I? That’s a laugh.”

She was a bit taken aback, this man didn’t seem to be that intelligent. In fact, he seemed to reek of stupidity. Nevertheless, her mind trick had not worked and so she went to the next method. She closed her eyes and imagined the Force gripping the man by the mid-section and hoisting him up rapidly into the ceiling above.

She was a bit confused when she didn’t hear the wet crunch of his skull splitting on the ceiling and she opened her eyes. He was still standing there, still chortling. For the first time, she started to feel a small bit of fear tugging at her insides. It wriggled like a worm in her belly and threatened to break her resolve. “W-what did you do to me?” she finally managed to say.

“Neural disruptor.”

Bastila’s breath caught in her throat and she became suddenly aware of what that meant. Calling upon the Force would be much more difficult now. It would require a monumental mastery over the Force, and it would also require immense focus. She again closed her eyes and began to calm herself, quieting the wriggling feeling of fear that had begun to dwell inside her.

A burning hot pain shot through her thigh and snapped her from her meditation. The man above her was holding onto a still smoking blaster pistol. “Ah, ah, ah love. There’ll be none of that now.”

Bastila began to grind her teeth, refusing to allow her mouth to part. She wasn’t going to give this drexl the satisfaction of a scream. She wouldn’t allow him to see any weakness within her. I have the resolve of a true Jedi. There is no emotion, there is peace. She quoted in her mind, trying desperately to still the urge to cry out, to weep in pain.

The Jedi had taught her how to focus, but they had never showed her how to shunt out pain. This was a lesson she would learn on her own, and she would humbly explain to the masters of the Order her success when she returned to Dantooine.

Again she struggled to bring herself under control, to master this new threat, but her mind wouldn’t let her focus. A random thought rushed through her mind and she opened her eyes, looking up at the man, defiance burning in her eyes. “I demand you release me immediately!”

The mirth drained from the man’s voice as he cast his gaze down his nose at her. “I am not in a position to be taking orders from you.”

The door wooshed open again, this time the sounds of several boots clanking across the durasteel floor could be heard. Bastila tried to lift her head, to look out at the people who must surely be her rescuers from this man.

“Brejik, we need to know where you want to keep that prototype swoop engine. I get the feeling that Gadon’s Beks will be searching for it soon.”

“Ranil, I have a guest,” Brejik stated very smoothly.

“Right, sir.” The gruff looking man said, looking over Bastila.

Sir? There goes any chance this one’s on my side. Bastila thought dryly. She had become increasingly aware that she was naked and that this man’s eyes seemed hungry as they played across her sun kissed flesh. She felt an odd sense of humiliation that came from being eyed up and down this way.

There were others in the room too, each eying her. She could feel their starved stares on her, and it
rose a heat in her mind, heart and cheeks. The only defiance she could manage was to close her eyes and look away, hiding as much of her cheeks as she could from them.

Brejik had taken to whispered tones with Ranil now. Bastila couldn’t hear them and for a fleeting moment, she hoped they’d forgotten her. An eternity seemed to pass for Bastila with nothing to occupy her time but whispered voices just outside her hearing. The embarrassment at the situation made it impossible for her to focus, to call upon the Force.

The sudden rush of heat and pleasure yanked her from her quiet world. Her eyes shot open and she lifted her head to look down at what had suddenly happened. One of the men from Brejik’s company had pressed something against her. She couldn’t see exactly what it was because the man’s hand was blocking it from view. He had a wild look in his eyes as he began to rub the object back and forth across her womanhood.

Bastila felt a rush of fear, pain, excitement, pleasure, and anger all course through her. How dare he!? Bastila started to try and form the words, but her mouth instead betrayed her. Her defiant sentence had become an odd moan that had little to do with it’s intended meaning.

She clamped her mouth closed tightly. She wasn’t even sure why she had done that. She obviously hated this, so why… why did she feel her hips begin to buck against whatever he was holding?

She was burning all over now as the bastard above her continued to loom. She could feel a strange contrast between hot and cold with alternating thrusts. The burning had spread now, and it had begun to amass in her stomach and face. She could feel the color rushing to her cheeks as she still felt humiliated by what they were doing. By what she was doing.

The man had begun to move the device she vaguely glimpsed to be a small, silver, egg shaped contraption. The man was thumbing a switch on it, a sinister grin still laid across his smug face as he did so.

The strange machine was causing weird vibrations to course across her jewel, but it also seemed to change from extremely hot to icy cold. The sensation, and constant change, kept her mind from focusing on any one point of it. She couldn’t even begin to comprehend what sensation would be next, or how to predict it.

Suddenly, whatever had been burning in the pit of her stomach felt as though it was going to explode and, for a moment, Bastila thought it might do just that. Her long, sun darkened legs had curled inward at the knees as far as she could. Her heels had dug into the mattress of the bed and she was beginning to thrust so hard against the egg she could feel her whole back coming off the mattress.

Sweat had begun to accumulate along the indents in her back, at the spine and in the small of her back. The thrusting pulled cool air up her back, only sending another pleasurable sensation rolling across her as she moved. She felt wild, uncontrolled. The feeling scared her, but it also thrilled her. Deep down, something ached inside her. She could feel her body pleading for more; she tried frenziedly to press herself harder against this apparatus.

The frantic thrusts were met with a limp arm as the man seemed content to let her thrash futilely. She could now vaguely hear jeers from the men around her, taunting her. She didn’t care. Whatever was happening, it felt too good to interrupt them at the moment. The ache in her center began to ebb, sending waves of pleasure through her.

Then, it happened. The explosion she felt her body building towards. Waves of pure ecstasy blasted through her. The exhilaration that coursed through her felt almost as wonderful as the Force. It filled her up as it spread to every part of her body. The world, the jeers, and even the men surrounding her seemed to disappear in that long moment of pleasure.

Lost in the moment, Bastila hadn’t even realized she’d begun to moan, to cry out. Only as the waves began to settle did she even realize that her throat was dry, hoarse. How long had she been crying out? How long go had she given in? Was this what it was like to fall to the Dark Side? No… I haven’t fallen to the Dark Side. This is merely a test of my conviction. A trial set before me by the Force. It led me here to teach me to resist this torture. This… wonderful torture.

Her final thought stunned her. Why would she refer to torture as “wonderful?” The jeers suddenly felt very loud, and she once again felt humiliated. She shot murderous looks around the room and made it a point to memorize each face. The Force wanted these men dead. That was why it put her on this path. She would find way to be free of their restraints, and then, she would exact revenge. Revenge, through the Force, of course. Not for myself. She angrily thought.

Her eyes then fell back onto Brejik, a cocky smile smack dab in the middle of his dark face. “I think we figured out what our Jedi likes boys. Keep her busy. At least until I find the right buyer. The Sith on this planet seem most eager to find Jedi. Either that, or I’ll find another way to cash in on her pretty little head.”

The wriggling feeling had returned to her stomach. Fear had once again found it’s way into her as she contemplated what could possibly come next.