Revan\'s Quest For Pants

I had to cut this one short because I was approaching my hourly limit thingie schmingie, so apologies for that. I'll finish it up in the next chapter.

Pretty straightforward chapter - almost exclusively smut. I enjoyed writing it, though I was unable to get the exact feel that I wanted for it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



With deliberate slowness, Jergan toyed with the woman's lower lip, his thumb pressing down on it gently as he pulled it forwards, before moving it backwards and inside her mouth in a half-formed pout - it was only lacking her teeth biting the lip down for the full effect. Jane was, for the most part, hidden under the table. Her head would only be visible if she was pulled up towards his lap... or if she was pulled -into- it as she imagined being throated as deep as possible. With a growing sense of dread, she realized that was more than likely to happen - her temporary owner's words were a constant reassurance of that. It was an almost unbroken whisper of words, and even though the music was less loud in this segmented area of the Tarisian cantina she could still only tell some of them apart... yet it was enough for her to get the gist of his ideas for her. 'Slut', 'throat', 'pound', 'choke' - every one of them was said more than once, and she'd bet more than a packet of credits that the unheard words were little more than variations on the four. 


She found little to be grateful for in her new position under the table. Sure, the music was dulled by the solid plasteel surface of the table above her, and the low-lit interior, when combined with her darker skin tone, meant she was pretty sure Jergan could not see the red that traitorously lit her cheeks up. However, the major factor which was detrimental to any mental - and, soon, physical - comfort was now facing her. The man's pants were undone around the lap, a thick shaft poking through the opening and facing her. Not even half erect, it was no laughing matter; Jergan would never need to say 'I'm a grower, not a shower.', his member an impressive length. Impressive turned menacing when he pulled her head forward, rested his cock across her features, and waited patiently, watching it grow and staring down at her until she averted her own eyes, unable to meet his. In her current state, any attempt at intimidation would come across as laughable bluster, and was sure to only result in a more thorough throat-fucking. Besides, what use would it be? she had to get the information, and displeasing Jergan wasn't going to help.


Jane wasn't allowed to stew in her thoughts for long either, though. A sharp, to-the-point slap across her cheek focused her thoughts and brought fire back to her eyes as she moved them up... until a second, much harsher slap stifled the fire and brought back the spark of submissiveness that she hated with all she got, yet could not remove with the same ease that Jergan removed the anger and rebellion from her gaze. They were not on equal footing, and this was not going to be easy or painless for her: that was the message conveyed clearly, albeit wordlessly. 

A steady hand led her still parted lips towards his heavy sack, resting one of his balls in the opening and pressing it down. Not wishing to earn yet another slap, she kept her teeth back, careful to keep any anger bubbling deep under the surface. She knew this wasn't enough, however - and a stern gaze reaffirmed her fears and coaxed a reluctant whimper out of her. Before the Tarisian did anything to convince her, her pink tongue slid forward, wrapping itself around the nut inside her mouth, running across its wrinkled skin and lapping at it once and twice, from below, over its oval surface, and up up up... until it ended its journey on the bottom of his shaft.


The worst of it was that she had to do it herself, however. Whether intentionally or not, Jergan gave her agency over her own actions - he did not (just yet, at least) take control of her, ramming her throat full of cock until she was ready to puke his load out. No, instead he was passive, only directing her with casual gestures, forcing her to make choices herself and, for the moment, letting her do all the work. It was worse than just being abused. While she was sure it'd come, this particular 'phase' was perhaps just as bad as she was made to service him at -her- own leisure. When her tongue moved to his other testicle, it was not because out of any suggestion or order from him. Instead, it came from the uncertainty that seemed to hold sway over her like a heavy, full-body cloak. Was it enough? Why wasn't he reacting? There's two, no shit - she should pleasure both, right? right... it only makes sense. If the tiny, minuscule bud of submission didn't come to life deep within her unconscious at this precise moment, then it is only because it was already present, and this was just nourishment.

Her eyes closed again, seconds turning into minutes as she matched the slow pulse of the music with her tongue before an odd sound brought her back yet again. Gagging? The hell? opening one eye inquisitively, she looked up and confirmed that it was Jergan who was its source. The smirk that settled on his lips dispersed her confusion - he was mocking her, and trying to anger her. He succeeded, but it was at this moment - as her eyes began to narrow, the muscles of her jaw tense up - that he pulled his sack out of her lips, nudged his cock down into a more horizontally inclined position, and rammed his shaft down into her snug little throat, filling it up to the brim and not only stopping the thrust when he could go no further. She could feel her jaw ache, and was sure that it'd be more than sore after the whole ordeal was done. That wasn't her main concern, however. What -was- was the lack of air. She was as far from being able to breathe through her nose whilst throating like the well-practiced whores, courtesans of Coruscant as she was from her dignity. Their slogan was 'Coruscan, not Coruscan't!', but hers was more akin to 'Glrrfk Glakglfr gllgkglk'. 


Instead, she choked, and gagged, and gagged, and choked. Her neck, once slender, was now bulging out obscenely from the massive prick that found its temporary home in her throat's snug, loving (if unwilling) embrace. Her fingers tried to form fists, but met resistance, and with an increasingly hazy mind she realized it was because they were already tightly gripping her ankles - just as Jergan ordered her at the beginning. Last she remembered, her arms were down her sides - but she could spare no time for figuring out just when she followed the order, because the man pulled his cock almost all the way out of her gullet. The tip was almost out of her wide-open lips, but before she could take more than a single ragged breath of desperation he rammed himself back down, filling - and spreading - her throat as its muscles only furthered the feeling of snug tightness by trying - and, obviously, failing - to expel the intruder. That was the last mercy shown to her by Jergan as he formed a pattern out of the last two actions, pounding away at her throat with savage, humiliating, and intensely objectifying abandon. It was as if she was no more than furniture to him. An argument could be made that she was even less than that. The table that hid her from view served it purpose well. It was sturdy, its surface even and un-tilted, and there was a clear polish to it. Jane, on the other hand, was lousy at her job. When she wasn't gagging on Jergan's cock as he pumped it in and out of her gullet, she was whining pathetically around it, clearly trying to get a gargled plea for aid out. Did she succeed? Definitely - the glee with which the plea was ignored was apparent, and burned fiercely in humiliation for a split second before the next savage thrust washed it away, reducing her back to the almost primal state in which survival, nothing else, was paramount. 


Jergan didn't seem to mind her clumsiness and lack of expertise as he kept up the oral rape at an astoundingly steady pace, giving her a 101 starter lesson in the 'How 2 be a good oral slut for dummies' course. He wasn't methodical - far from it. He reveled in dominating her so thoroughly, breaking down every mental barrier she had and reducing her to a whimpering slut, serving on her knees. It wasn't 'against her will' either - that'd imply there was one at the moment. After teasing her vulnerability at the beginning, he took away any semblance control away from the kneeling woman, stripping her of any agency and reducing her to a static, passive, submissive receptacle for his cock - and, eventually, for his load. He experimented, varying the position several times. In the end, he settled with one hand under her chin and neck, just to feel the moving bulge, and the other tightly gripping her hair as he fucked her face. He was only mortal, however. After what seemed like eternity to Jane, yet what was in reality less than ten minutes, a vein on his forehead strained as gritted his teeth and kept her down on his cock after a final thrust. Erupting, his sack twitched, the cum working its way out of it and into his member before spilling out deep into her belly. Progressively, as he came, he began pulling her off his cock, until the last third of the thick, creamy load was resting on Jane's tongue and in her mouth. Her mouth hanging open, eyes almost only showing whites and tongue lolling out like a dog's, she was borderline (if not outright) unconscious. A distant voice changed Jergan's plans, however. It felt familiar to Jane, for some reason, yet she could not discern whose it was. After returning the greeting and waving the other closer, the Tarisian looked down at the broken woman below. ''Business talk now, love - be a dear and clean up the mess you've made.'' He whispered to her in a confidential tone of voice before shaking her head to bring a bit of life back to her and pointing down to the floor. A puddle of cum, leaked down her chin, has made her way there after much of it stopped on her cleavage. After being given no response, he sighed and dropped her down cheek-first into the puddle, resting one boot on the other cheek to keep her pinned and make sure she'd do the job.

''Jergan. Bartender pointed me here, after a bit of convincing - not easy to find you I tell ya, especially not during such a busy night. My partner was supposed to meet you, but she isn't in sight, so she's probably drunk in a corner of this cantina. Unreliable, I tell you... but, enough about that. Let's talk business.'' Oh, gods. It was Onasi's voice. If anything, that sobered her up - and an increase in the pressure of the boot meant Jergan connected the dots too. Luckily, he wasn't interested in outing her. ''Business. The information will soon be available anyways, so you're just buying first-come access. Twenty credits - no more, no less.''

''Done.'' Carth's voice was a mixture of relief and surprise as something - a packet of credits, probably - slid across the well-polished table in exchange for something else - a holodisk, or something of that kind. After a few pleasantries were exchanged, Carth departed, the business concluded. All the while, Jane's tongue was working away on the puddle, the wet shlicks of it dragging across the thankfully clean floor a constant undertone to the music, and in itself music to Jergan's ears.