For Democracy's Sae

If there was one thing Padmé Amidala loved, it was democracy. The people of her planet -- of any planet, point blank -- deserved fair and honest representation by leaders that they elected to represent them in fair, honest elections. That love, that belief, was core to Padmé's very being. It was why she was elected Queen of Naboo, and why she was later elected as its Senator in the Galactic Senate.

As a politician, that honest belief guided every one of her actions. The people of Naboo loved her for it. They always had and they always would. She loved them for that, and it hardened her resolve to fight for not just them, but the rest of the galaxy. When she looked back on her life, she wanted to be able to say that she made a difference. She wanted to leave the galaxy a better place, full of

actual democracy

, with people led by

real leaders

.

She wanted it to be the exact opposite of what she saw every day on Coruscant. A mere facsimile of democracy and unity, led by unethical scumbags and callous businessmen who only bothered to put on the barest pretenses. Some of the Senate meetings she attended made her skin crawl and made her feel sick to her stomach, particularly the private ones. The ones where the corrupt officials felt they could speak openly about their intent to squeeze their planets dry and threaten weaker Senators with impunity.

The ones where many of her 'colleagues' felt comfortable making a pass at her, the youngest Senator in the Galactic Senate's history, and by far the most attractive woman in any of those rooms. When she first arrived on Coruscant, they assumed she used her body to get her way, that she used her femininity as a bargaining chip. They quickly learned better, but that didn't stop them from putting out feelers, figuratively speaking.

The one time someone

literally

put out a feeler, she turned and decked him, breaking his nose on the spot. Everyone agreed that he simply fell down the stairs, and no one had tried to touch Padmé since. That was about four months ago.

Not that Karegav Cogdars lost his interest in her just because she left his previously perfect nose slightly crooked. He complimented her appearance every time he saw her, making Padmé's skin crawl. It made her morbidly curious about what sort of sick shit he was into if

that

didn't put an end to his advances, or if he was even really hitting on her at all. Was he just fucking with her?

Two weeks ago, she received her invitation to a private party happening in twenty four hours, full of euphemisms that made her

reasonably

certain he was going to launch a trade war on Naboo if she didn't give him a 'proper apology' in front of all his guests. Her allies advised her to go through with it. None of them found anything strange about him wanting her to pay 'lip service to unity'. It was honestly a little ridiculous how naive some of them were.

Then again, maybe they just wanted Padmé to suck his cock and see if it would open the floodgates -- or more aptly, her legs.

Padmé accepted the invitation (and of course, being a responsible adult, sent an RVSP back), but she had no intention of paying Karegav any form of lip service. Not verbal and certainly not a blowjob. The party was taking place in his home, and she had learned his home office was where he kept all of his documents, including the ones he would

really

rather not be exposed to the public -- proof of his corruption that would end his squeaky clean image on his home planet, and force his resignation. It was a golden opportunity.

Sometimes, democracy (or at least the path to proper democracy) required decisive action and less than honorable tactics.

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The Next Night...

And sometimes democracy necessitated shopping for a new dress that Padmé. Even though the dress cost her a small fortune, she had no intentions of ever wearing it again. When she returned home later that night, the first thing she intended to do was strip out of the little black number, stuff it into a bag and set it on fire, though maybe she'd just donate it.

It

was

a nice dress, even if it took the woman who wore it and turned them into the very picture of a whore on the prowl for cock. Padmé felt sexy as hell wearing it. She felt far more powerful in it than she felt while speaking at the Galactic Senate, but neither of those things struck her as a good thing.

The small black number hugged her body like a second skin, revealing the exact shape of Padmé's slim body and her curves to anyone who looked at her. Its halterneck cut exposed everything above the small of her back, while its deep v-neck showed the sides of her perky tits and no shortage of her fair skin, only cutting off just below her navel. Her skirt only

just

covered her ass in the back while showing off most of her thighs in the front. Dark but sheer stockings turned her comely legs into promising silhouettes. The finishing touch on the whole ensemble was her black heels, making Padmé stand two inches taller while thrusting her ass out.

It fit the party's dress code of 'hot and steamy'. Maybe a little too well. Oh, she felt sexy and powerful but she also felt practically naked, without the slightest bit of room to hide a blaster or some tool. Everyone at the party would be searched at the entrance, and they weren't allowed to bring any bags inside with them; Padmé wouldn't be able to bring anything with her to aid in her mission.

With her hair put up in an elegant hairdo, she had black hairpins and a couple of clips. The low-tech mystery novels she loved so much as a child always had femme fatales use them for lockpicks. It was a nice, comforting little thought but entirely unrealistic in reality. Even the most basic lock needed dedicated slicing tools to break through.

Padmé stood at the base of the stairs leading up to Karegv's estate and stared up at the massive mansion. It was her last chance to back out. Once she went through those doors, she was on her own. If she couldn't get her hands on the incriminating documents and left empty-handed, the resulting trade war would lead to economic disaster for the people of Naboo. She wasn't about to let that happen, whether that meant paying 'lip service' or figuring out something else.

She drew in a deep breath, then began to click her heels up the stairs. Earlier, there was a line of people waiting to get through security. Now it seemed like she would be the last guest to arrive. One click-clack at a time, she approached the door and the guard waiting there for her. He took her in slowly as she neared him, clearly looking her over head-from-toe, though the dark eyewear he wore kept her from seeing where his eyes strayed.

"Arms out, ma'am," he ordered once she was just shy of arm's reach. Padmé sighed, then lifted her arms obediently and waited while he waved a scanning device over her arms and legs, then her front and back. "Looks fine, ma'am. Just a moment longer." She looked up to the sky and exhaled a breath, just short of a full sigh, feeling her impatience in her bones. Search procedures were relatively standard throughout the galaxy.

She didn't flinch away from the guard's hands as they began to feel over her stomach and hips, checking for anything the scanner might have missed. Even though the dress didn't hide a single inch of her body and she

clearly

didn't have anything hidden on her, he was right to feel her up. Technology evolved in leaps and bounds; she could easily have cybernetics or something that avoided his scanner.

"Just another moment," he assured her apologetically, though he didn't put much effort into sounding sorry as he ran his fingers over the bare sides of her breasts and then felt under them. Once he was satisfied, he reached behind her to palm her ass briefly. Briefly and, in Padmé's opinion, unprofessionally. He could have done it far more delicately or far less intimately, but why would someone like Karegav hire a professional? If they were anywhere else with less on the line, she'd break his nose.

Padmé ignored the way her body reacted to his touches and squeezes until he finally backed off. Her stiffening nipples were nothing more than a reminder of how long it had been since her last fuck. She wasn't here for that, and she certainly wasn't interested in one of Karegav's flunkies. The Senator of Naboo was resolute that he would be the first -- and only -- man to touch her that night. He picked up a small bag kept on a table to the side of the door, then turned and held it out to Padmé.

"Here you are, ma'am. Enjoy the party," he told her, with a smug smirk on his lips that told her that he had already enjoyed it plenty. Determined not to give him the satisfaction of her ire, she simply took the bag and stepped towards the door, passing through it and the manor's cloak room. She got all of six steps into the manor's foyer before she had to stop and simply stare in open-mouthed horror at what awaited her.

Galactic senators and celebrities alike were strung out across the room, mingling and engaging in various party games. Some of them were literally strung out... or perhaps it would be more apt to say they were strung up, their wrists up in manacles or tied to repurposed furniture or wall ornaments. Some were on their knees or on their feet, bound in one way or another. Almost all of

those

people were wearing leather collars; the men wore black while the women wore pink.

Though they were restrained and collared, that wasn't the first thing that Padmé noticed about them. It was their various states of undress, with more than a handful completely nude and happily so. There were more people dressed and unbound than undressed, of course, but they didn't draw Padmé's eye right away. Her warm brown eyes honed in on one woman in particular, a female colleague of hers. A few years her elder, and someone Padmé respected greatly when she first arrived on Coruscant to fulfill her duties as Naboo's senator.

The other senator was knelt between a man's splayed legs as he sat comfortably in an armchair, her wrists bound together at the small of her back. The way she sat on her knees had her ass thrust out and perked up, red from countless swats and paddle strikes -- but swaying, as though to silently plead

please sir, may I have another

. Padmé had only ever seen her long black hair in a professional, no-nonsense braid that matched her attitude and reputation as an ice queen.

Now it hung long, loose and wild, well tousled from her participation in the party's 'games'. She was fully nude, and between the reddened cheeks of her ass Padmé could spy the slight gape of her well-fucked pussy, slowly leaking drip-drops of cum. Every curve and contour of her voluptuous body was clearly outlined by the sheen of sweat covering her body. Her expression was a sharp one-eighty from her reputation. She was exuberant, thrilled, but playing at meekness and submission for the man above her.

She didn't pull away as he slipped his hand behind her head and pulled her head in close to his waiting cock, growling something Padmé was too far to hear. Whatever it was, it had the woman grinning briefly before happily diving in to begin kissing and licking his balls, worshipping them with all the jubilant joy a young Jedi might have the first time they touched the Force.

As Padmé stared in horror, the man slid back in his seat and pushed her colleague's face lower. She didn't shy away or even hesitate to begin tossing his salad. It was at that point Padmé noticed the band on the man's ring finger. Padmé was a perceptive woman and picked up on plenty of little things, not that Karegav's wedding ring was anything but oversized and downright gaudy. Her eyes cut up to his face. As Padmé's ally pleasured him with his tongue, he was looking right at the Senator from Naboo. Their eyes met.

He grinned. Though Padmé didn't give the guard out front the satisfaction of a reaction, Karegav certainly got one out of her. She felt her face grow red and quickly cut her eyes away. Everywhere she looked, the clothed masters were amusing themselves with the night's slaves, using their bodies as they pleased, whether that was to amuse themselves or just to get off.

It wasn't a party. It was a fucking orgy. Everywhere she looked, someone was being fucked or sucked or objectified, and not a single person looked like they wanted to be anywhere else. She ignored her now stiff nipples, though anyone looking at her could clearly see them press against her dress. It was harder to ignore how warm and how damp her pussy had gotten, but she did her best. Perhaps the bag's contents would provide a brief escape from the reality that surrounded her, or at least sober her up.

Padmé opened the bag, took one look inside and then promptly closed it, her cheeks beet red. She felt stupid for even bothering to look. Of

course

it was full of ropes, cuffs, an uncomfortable amount of sex toys and a damn leather collar. On top of it all was a data pad, offering to enlighten her to the party's rules. The former queen drew a quick breath, took another look around the room, then -- with as much composure as she could muster and dignity as she could muster -- sneaked off to a side room.

She ignored the friendly invitations several men and women gave her as she passed them, mentally shoving them aside just like her repressed libido.

One guard watched her, stepping close to Karegav. "What do you want me to do about her, sir?" he asked quietly, glancing down at Padmé's ally senator as she shifted from tossing salad to swallowing an impressive amount of his cock. They were aware Padmé might get up to some kind of shenanigans if she showed up; they expected her to turn down the invitation.

"Leave her be," Karegav grunted, grabbing the back of the senator's head and beginning to face-fuck her on his dick, far more interested in his imminent orgasm than Padmé at that moment, "and let's see what she does."

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Ten Minutes Later...

Padmé smiled and put the data pad away. Though she was still blushing, she felt far more confident about her plan after reading through the party's rules. Karegav had unwittingly given her everything she needed to pull off her little heist. She was worried that she had been invited to this party

purely

as an unwitting submissive, that he hoped to fluster her and see her storm out in futile outrage.

There was a bit more nuance to the orgy than that. Everyone invited to the party was given the same bag when they entered, but they weren't necessarily expected to use any of it. Anyone who decided to don their collar was making a commitment to serve as the evening's live entertainment. The uncollared masters could do whatever they wanted to them -- within reason, of course. Everything was consensual. There were safe words.

It was far, far better than she expected from Karegav. When Padmé first entered and saw the collars, she assumed it was literal slavery. She took another inventory of her bag's contents, then headed down the small hallway that led to Karegav's elegantly-appointed office. She already knew what would be waiting for her inside: Karegav's favorite bodyguard, a mercenary named Jaiedd.

All Padmé had to do was convince him to collar himself, then she could use the gear in the bag to take him out of the picture while she found the incriminating documents. Absconding after that point would be child's play. The office was on the first floor and had a bay window; she didn't even need to risk getting searched at the front door.

Did Padmé feel a bit sleazy using her body and sexuality as a weapon? Of course, but it was for democracy's sake. It would be worth it. For her, for the Senate, and for both her people and those that elected Karegav in the first place. She paused as she drew close enough to the bodyguard to make out his facial features and the sheer size of him. He was tall and terribly solid with muscle, and far better looking than she expected in a rugged sort of way.

Padmé

hated

people who wore dark shades indoors, though she didn't mind it so much for bodyguards just doing their jobs. He made it work, though. Jaiedd was a stoic monolith of a man. Just her type, really. For a moment, she wondered what he would look like with those shades pushed up to his brow while she sat on his face or rode his cock.

She swallowed and pushed those thoughts away too, wishing she could just will her increasingly wet pussy to dry up and let her focus entirely on the task at hand without distracting thoughts.

"Think you took a wrong turn, ma'am," the bodyguard rumbled out in his deep voice, his solid frame blocking her way into the office. "The party is back the way you came." Padmé closed her eyes, feeling the little shiver that ran up her spine. What would he sound like while he was cumming? She could already imagine how his cock would make her scream.

... Probably better to do some method acting than force this,

Padmé lied to herself. Her body was desperate for an end to its dry spell. If she leaned into that, she would come across as so much more genuine to him, wouldn't she? And that would be to her advantage. She gave herself a second to get in the proper headspace, then slowly opened her eyes and smiled at Jaiedd, continuing forward in spite of his warning.

"I'm sorry," Padmé murmured as she came within arm's reach of the man, setting her bag down on a table that only bore a bust of Karegav. She looked up at the bodyguard through the thick veil of her eyelashes, stepping closer to him. He didn't pull away; she was slim, beautiful, and wearing a dress that just screamed 'fuck me'. She wasn't exactly a threat. "It's just a bit much for me out there. I was hoping to find somewhere a bit more..."

Now Padmé was close enough that he could smell her subtle perfume, and she could smell his aftershave. She reached up and laid her palm flat against his broad chest, slowly running it up and feeling the clear definition of his muscles. "Intimate," she whispered, not needing to fake the appreciation in her eyes. He really was a stud. With his shades, she couldn't see where he was looking -- but by the way he tilted his head down, she could tell he was appreciating her in the same fashion.

Lest he somehow mistake her intent, she slid her other hand to his thigh and crept it inward. Padmé let her smile grow slim as she found his burgeoning cock, already reacting to her presence and clearly proportion to the rest of his body. "What do you say we slip into the room behind you and have a little party of our own?" she whispered, groping his dick. She really couldn't deny how much she wanted it now, but she wasn't here for a fuck.

He reached behind her, sliding his fingers under the hem of her dress' scandalously short skirt and pulling it up. Anyone coming down the hall could have clearly seen Padmé's ass, but she focused on what was in front of her.

The job, not the cock,

she reminded herself. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, letting out a soft groan as he squeezed her bare ass; her thong was as skimpy as her dress. With how tight it was it had to be, if she wanted to avoid obvious lines under it.

Hadn't she told herself 'no other man' would touch her that night? Whatever -- it was a turnabout, so it was fair play. She started it and she wasn't about to complain about it.

"Think I can take my break right about now," he told her, his deep voice making her shiver again in its far lower tone. He drew his wrist back and gave her a sharp slap across her ass, making her groan again and making it give a delightful jiggle. She pressed into him like a cat in heat and he slid his arm around her, turning to lead her into the waiting office.