Star Wars Dark Angel Unleashed

DISCLAIMER: Based on characters and situations created by George Lucas. All characters (sans those of author’s creation) belong to George Lucas and Lucasfilm, Ltd. and I make no financial gains whatsoever by the work presented here.

Lylla sat at her small table, completely nude, mindlessly pushing the cred chips around on the slick surface. Twenty five hundred credits, that was all she needed. Just twenty five hundred more to meet her buyout price of ten thousand credits. Then she would be free.

Her short-lived optimism suddenly burned away like a lit match. She slapped herself in the forehead and clenched her teeth. Twenty-five hundred…may as well be in the millions. How long had it taken her to accumulate what she had already? Five years? The following week would mark the beginning of her thirty-first year alive…how long could she hold herself together like this? When will the small lines start forming on her face, around her eyes? When will those parts of her still firm body begin to soften and sag? How long could she still successfully turn the trick before becoming a useless, aging joke on board the Death Star? Like she wasn’t one already…

In a small fit of fury and despair, Lylla swiped her arm across the table top, sending the little cred chips flying in all directions in her quarters. She shook as she intensely forced her tears back, berating herself for this weakness. Stop it, stop it, you weak little fool! Get a hold of yourself—stop acting like a pathetic little WOMAN…

The money would come, one way or another. Fifty creds here, a hundred there in the form of tips and small gifts bestowed by DS officers…it would come. She smiled bitterly as she glanced about her tiny quarters. She was already more fortunate than the other pleasure slaves onboard. She was the only one with her own living space, cramped as it was. Her room even had a window, be it a small one. She had her own berth and her own table and chair. She still had to share the fresher with the other slaves, but this was a minor annoyance in light of everything else she had.

No, she would find a way out…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of the comlink. Irritably, she hit the speaker button. “Yes?”

The harem matron’s voice crackled over the speaker. “Lylla, you’ve been called for.”

Lylla stretched in her chair, pulling her arms and legs to their fullest length. “Mmm…who is it now? Tarkin? Tagge? Motti? Gods, I hope it’s not Motti, that freak…” The comlink remained quiet for a moment. Lylla huffed, “Well, who is it?”

“It’s…um…” The matron cleared her throat before she could spit out the name. “It’s Lord Vader, Lylla.”

Lylla’s chair practically flew across the room as she leapt up, threw her arms over her head, and let out an elated screech that bounced off the ceiling and almost shattered the matron’s eardrums. The matron obviously took Lylla’s screams to be those of terror, for she piped, “Lylla…I can make some sort of excuse for you if you’re afraid. I can perhaps tell Lord Vader you are in the infirmary or something—“

“Are you crazy?” Lylla barked into the mic. “Do you know how long I have worked for this—been waiting for this? Inform Lord Vader I will be there in a half-hour.” She slapped the comlink off and skipped toward the small wardrobe, passing the slim full-length mirror hanging on the wall. Stopping, she gazed at her nakedness, running a hand over her torso and lightly caressing her breast, all the while smiling. “Play your cards right, Lylla,” she murmured as she intensely glared into her own eyes.

She pulled a garment and pair of boots from the wardrobe and began to dress. She slid her arms into the tight sleeves of the black garment and fastened the front across her breasts and ribs. She donned a pair of black vinyl briefs cut low in the front and high up the hips and back with fasteners on either side. Finally, she pulled on the thigh-high black vinyl boots, clipping them to the garters that hung from the briefs.

She stood, nimbly balancing herself on the thin and impossibly high heels of the boots, and admired herself in the mirror. The top garment fit snugly around her form and heaved her breasts up and out of the neckline while exposing her tight midriff. A long two-meter train of black silk spilled from the back of the top garment and pooled around her feet. The high boots and skimpy briefs made her already long legs look even longer, and the heels made her almost as tall as Vader himself. She had sacrificed a good sum of her buyout money for this outfit, but she now saw it was well worth it. She ran her hands through her short scarlet hair and moaned as she found herself aroused by her own image.

Executing a neat pirouette on her heel, she moved toward a small drawer in the wardrobe. Opening it, she pulled out one of the many hand-rolled glimmer-spice joints there and placed it between her lips. She was about to light it with her tiny laser-lighter when she stopped. She withdrew the joint from her lips and stared at it for a moment before putting it back into the drawer. “No, not this time,” she whispered to herself, “This time, you go sober.”

She exited her private quarters into the main harem chamber. Several girls, human and alien, were lounging or sitting on their berths and whispering nervously amongst themselves until they saw the Amazon-like red-haired pleasure slave enter the room. Lylla narrowed her black eyes and smiled a tight smile at their sudden stillness. They had obviously heard the news of her newest client.

She raised an eyebrow at the girls. “What?”

A young, lavender-skinned Twi’lek girl gawked at Lylla with huge eyes. “You’re actually going, Lylla? To Lord Vader?” she asked in heavily accented basic.

“Of course I am, don’t be stupid. What, I’m going to say no?”

“Lylla,” a petite brown-haired human girl whispered tightly, “You’re crazy.”

Lylla threw back her head and laughed heartily at the comment. “I may well be,” she said as she sauntered toward the younger slave. Her smile dissolved instantly as her hand shot forward and painfully pinched the girl’s chin. “But let’s see how crazy I am when you’re still rotting here and I’m NOT!” She jerked her hand away from the girl’s face and strode through the chamber door.

Her heels clicked noisily against the durasteel floors of the corridor as she proudly strode toward Vader’s private chambers. She could feel the gawks and stares of Imperial officers and stormtroopers grope over her lithe form like invisible, salacious fingers—but instead of lustfully returning their stares as she normally would, she kept her head held high and her gaze focused ahead. She couldn’t be bothered with these “peons” at the moment. Her services had been requested by the most powerful and feared entity of the entire galaxy. With the train of her garment billowing behind her and anticipation flooding through her veins, Lylla felt and moved like dark royalty.

She never hesitated for a second when the door to Vader’s chambers slid open upon her approach. With a final toss of her bobbed tresses, she confidently stepped through into the awaiting antechamber.

The first thing Lylla noticed was that Vader’s quarters were unlike any other officer’s on the Death Star. She found herself standing in a dimly lit octagon-shaped foyer with seamless walls of black marble. The walls were carved in a form of writing she had never seen before. Staring at the writing, she could swear that it was pulsating, moving, shifting slightly before her eyes. She blinked hard a few times to focus her eyes, suddenly remembering that she was completely sober and that she was not hallucinating this phenomenon. She walked slowly toward one of the walls, reaching out toward one of the symbols to see if would still move under her touch…

*Unless you wish to experience severe seizures and possible death, I suggest you do not touch any symbols of Sithskrit.*

Lylla’s hand froze just centimeters shy of the wall, and she glanced around the chamber, trying to decipher where the rumbling voice had come from. As it spoke again, she came to realize it was generating from her own head.

*You are punctual. That pleases me. You may enter.*

The wall in front her smoothly and silently lifted from the floor. Lylla showed no sign of surprise or fear, but calmly waited for the wall to rise high enough for her to step through into the adjoining chamber.

The chamber was very much like the foyer with its carved black marble walls, but much, much larger. The far wall was made entirely of one massive window from ceiling to floor, Vader’s private viewport. The chamber was completely unfurnished save for a huge black sphere anchored to the floor in the center of the room.

Lylla, despite her outward bravado, felt the chill of intimidation course down her spine. Nevertheless, she stepped toward the sphere, her hands placed on her slim hips. She stopped in mid-stride when the sphere’s top began to ascend, the jagged clamps mimicking the teeth and jaws of some nightmarish hell beast. A bright white light shot from the inside of the sphere, and Lylla caught her gasp in her throat at the sight within the sphere.

She could see delicate metal appendages lowering Lord Vader’s helmet onto a ghoulishly white and heavily scarred naked skull. The sound of the helmet clamping itself back onto the Dark Lord’s gorget lightly ricocheted off the cold marble walls, and Lylla could almost feel their vibrations against her exposed parts of skin. The entire throne within the sphere began to slowly rotate until the seated Lord of the Sith was fully facing the pleasure slave standing before him.

Lylla felt as though her heart were beating high up in her throat. She tried to slow her accelerated breathing as well as think of something to say…

She bowed her head. “My Lord, my name is—“

“I know who you are,” Vader said flatly. “I sent for you, if you recall.”

Lylla fluttered her eyes downward. For the first time in years, she actually felt awkward. For the first time in years, she did not have complete control of her situation. Not this time.

“Yes, of course you did, My Lord,” she stammered, fighting to retain her coldly seductive composure. Taking in a deep breath, she reached up to her breasts and began unlatching the fasteners of her garment.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Lylla stopped at the second fastener and glanced up at the Dark Lord, knitting her brow in mild confusion. “I’m…disrobing, my Lord.”

“Why?” Vader asked quietly.

“Because…I thought you wanted me to.”

It was then Vader rose from the encapsulated throne. As he did, the center of the sphere’s lower jaw jutted out and down into a small staircase. He stepped down onto the main floor, and Lylla was amazed by the elegance and grace in which Vader moved his armored bulk. As he approached her, she felt stimulation mingle with her nervousness, causing her breast to heave up and down in shallow breathing.

He stopped just shy of a meter from her, and actually found himself mildly pleased that he did not have to strain his neck to look down into her eyes. In her heels, the top of her head stopped just shy of the widow’s peak of his helm. It also pleased him that she looked directly into his eyescreens. He opened his Force receptors to her, taking in her emotions. She was nervous, yes, and intimidated, but she was not afraid. This was good.

He folded his arms over his breast console. “You are not here for the purpose you think, therefore you may leave your clothing intact.” He noted the slight look of disappointment flicker in her eye. He continued. “I wish to converse with you.” Her nervous titter also did not escape Vader’s attention. “You find that amusing, girl?”

Lylla refastened the top clip of her garment as she quickly regained her composure. “No, Lord Vader.” She cleared her throat. “It’s just that…most men are not interested in talking with me.”

“Most men are fools, as I think you well know from your experiences,” Vader stated. “Walk with me.” He turned and casually strode around the meditation sphere with Lylla flanking his left. She stopped with him as he planted himself in front of the huge window, peering out. “You are a pleasure slave.”

“Yes, my Lord, “ Lylla confirmed, mildly confused by his statement of the obvious.

“Tell me, do you enjoy your work?”

“Of course, my Lord,” she replied quickly.

The mask snapped from the window toward Lylla’s face. “Do not lie to me, girl. I can tell when people lie. And do not tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me the truth.” He turned slowly to the window again. “Do you enjoy your work?”

Lylla paused, muddled by the question and unsure what Vader was getting at. Finally, she sighed deeply as she peered out the viewport, folding her hands behind her back. “I…try to make the best of the cards life has dealt me, my Lord. And I strive to be the best at what I am aboard this vessel. Wallowing in self-pity does not get anyone what he or she truly wants. Obstacles are made to be overcome.” She glanced sideways at the Dark Lord. “As you may well agree.” It was more a statement than a question.

Vader pulled himself even straighter in response. He understood the comment to be an acknowledgement of his dependence upon his life-supporting armor. This woman was, indeed, as reckless as he had heard.

“You do not seem to fear me, Lylla.”

Lylla was caught off guard for a moment. She liked the way Vader’s resonant bass caressed her name as he spoke it for the first time. A bitter smile crossed her lips. “I do not fear much anymore, my Lord. Life is cheap, and mine is cheaper than others.”

Vader did not reply immediately, but rather continued to stare out into space’s void. After a long silence, he spoke again. “I have noticed the way you look at me. Why?”

“My Lord?”

“Why do you…stare at me with lust in your eyes?”

Again, Lylla weighed the question carefully before answering. “You attract me, my Lord.”

“What have I said about lying, Lylla?”

“I am not lying. Can’t you tell?”

Vader scanned her even more closely, and found that she was indeed speaking the truth. “Why do I attract you?”

They were now entering an arena more familiar to Lylla. She turned around and leaned against the window, folding her arms over her breasts, purposely pushing them even further out of her top. She tilted her head and smirked. “You are commanding, my Lord. There is…majesty in your movement, your voice, and your demeanor. You hold power over life and death, and everyone fears you for it.” She flitted her eyes up and down his monstrous form, pausing briefly to scan his potent legs, before returning her gaze back to his mask. “You intrigue me. I am…curious.”

For the first time since the conversation began, Vader’s voice revealed a hint of irritation. “So, I am merely a curiosity to you?”

Lylla parried the verbal thrust. “And why am I here, Lord Vader? Are you not curious about me as well?”

Again, Vader turned his mask to meet Lylla’s eyes head on. And again, Lylla looked into his mask without fear or hesitation. Despite the woman’s insolence and arrogance, he found himself enjoying this conversation. He was speaking with someone unafraid of him and intelligent, even witty. And a woman, no less…an alluring woman who was showing carnal interest in him. This had become quite alien to Vader over the last twenty years.

He turned away from the window and paced a few meters away from her—since he did not command her to follow, Lylla stayed in her leaning position against the window. She watched him intently, and felt her nervousness begin to surface again as nothing came from him but the wheeze of his respirator. She worried that perhaps she had gone too far this time…

“Did you happen to witness the destruction of Alderaan?” Vader asked, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Lylla relaxed a bit. “Yes, my Lord, I did.”

“What did you feel when you saw it?” He turned in her direction. “Again, the truth.”

Lylla stared at him through lowered lids briefly before replying. “The truth, my Lord?” She pushed herself off the window and started walking toward him. “I found it…exhilarating! It excited me. I bore witness to the ultimate power, the death of a world! And…I felt envious.”

“Why?”

“I felt envious because…I wished I had been the one to press the button.”

She stopped in front of Vader, arms still folded, eyes still locked to his. Vader pushed past the waves of lust and rage that poured forth from the slave to continue his questioning. “You felt no terror? No shame or remorse? No pity for the Alderaani people?”

Lylla’s full mouth again curved into a tight smile. “Like I said, life is cheap. I didn’t know those people. Why should I care? I just enjoyed the show.”

Vader said nothing, but merely nodded once. Yes, he had been right about this one. From the first moment she had leered at him in the corridor outside of Tarkin’s quarters, wearing nothing but a sheet and a malicious smile, he had detected the pure darkness that saturated her aura. Self-obsessed, vain, pitiless, sadistic, lustful, beautiful; she was close to perfect for his needs. It was time now to uncover her talents and test her resolve…

“Come with me,” Vader commanded, turning on his heel, sending his cape sweeping behind him. Lylla followed, the train of her garment perfectly mimicking the grand sweep of Vader’s cloak.

They left his chambers and traveled down the halls, with Vader leading and Lylla flanking slightly behind and to his left. This time she did not feel any gawks or stares, for all the surrounding personnel never dared raise their eyes in the presence of the Dark Lord. Lylla again felt the thrill and arousal of enjoying the company of complete power.

They entered a lift that took them to the detention levels. As they exited the lift, the cell clock commander and two stormtroopers met them.

“Is everything ready, Commander?” Vader barked in his usual booming, demanding tone when speaking to lesser officers.

The commander snapped himself to attention, forcing his eyes straight ahead. “Yes, my Lord. Everything has been arranged precisely as you ordered.”

As she and Vader passed the officer, Lylla noticed his eyes sway away from their target on the wall to pass across her burgeoning cleavage. Lylla dismissed this, as she was quite used to salacious glances. But Vader stopped, motioned to Lylla to stay where she stood, and calmly paced back to the officer. “Did you see something to your liking, Commander?”

The officer stammered, “No…no…my Lord…” His voice became strangled and tight, and Lylla saw the officer’s eyes bulge out of his head and his pallor begin to turn bluish.

Vader’s voice remained cool and stately, his hands never moving from their position on his belt. “You will pay those in my company the same respect as you do me. Understood, Commander?” The choking officer, fighting for air through the invisible grip, hastily nodded his head. “Good.” With that, he released his Force-hold on the officer and continued through the narrow detention level corridor.

Lylla was frozen momentarily, staring at the gasping officer, astonished. Vader could not have possibly seen the man’s lascivious glare, yet he knew it happened. Not only that, the Dark Lord had actually championed her honor…Excited, she smiled and followed him down the corridor.

They stopped before a door. Vader passed his palm over the electro-lock and the door speedily and noisily slid up into the ceiling. Lylla followed him into the brightly lit chamber.

In the middle of the round white room was a young human male bound by the wrists, hanging from restraints mounted in the ceiling. Lylla watched Vader circle around the young man as she stood in the door. Vader never looked at him, just merely walked around him in a circle. Eventually he motioned to Lylla to come to his side as he stopped in front of the bound man. She looked at the young man. He seemed to be no more than eighteen or nineteen, wearing a shredded Rebel uniform. He was barely conscious, badly bruised with small cuts on his face and arms. She saw him look at both of them with a mix of terror, hatred, and defiance.