Mira's sleep aboard the
Ebon Hawk
was a restless one. There was a tremendous itch in that sweet spot between her legs, a craving that she didn't know how to fill now that she had been put on this strange course. The Jedi Exile had convinced her to at last open up, to confess to him her past of being a slave for the Mandalorians. And in return, he had shared with her the knowledge of the Force—a taste of the enlightenment to come.
With such purity set before her, how, then, could she admit to wanton lusts and desires without compromising what she had gained?
She opened her eyes, her vision still blurry from what sleep she managed to get. Her tousled crimson hair was a mess atop her lovely head. She stretched and yawned, and only then did she realize that she was alone in this wing's sleeping quarters. Usually Visas chose to meditate here. She gave a nonchalant shrug in response to this observation. The less Visas the better, she figured. The blind woman was horribly creepy.
She then noticed a movement from the room's entryway. Blinking the blur from her eyes, she looked up to see Mandalore enter. He was, as always, garbed in that eerie full battle suit of his. The door sealed shut behind him.
"Ah, you're awake," he said in his strong, commanding voice. She shivered at the sound of it, at the mannerism of his speech. It brought back memories of being a slave to the Mandalorians...memories that exacerbated the yearning between her legs.
"So you
can
see with that trashcan over your head," Mira snappishly replied.
Mandalore merely stood still, a statue of cold metal. "I heard your conversation with the Exile," he said at last. "You were a slave to the Mandalorians..."
The utter nerve of his eavesdropping infuriated her! She sprang up from the bed, still dressed in the Jedi tunic she had been given. The loose-fitting clothes had molded themselves to her flesh during her restless slumber, pasted to her form by the sweat of yearning agitation. "And what do
you
want to make of it?" she growled while moving to stand in front of him. Her attempt to glare him down was an entirely foolish thing to do, she realized. He stood well over a foot above her, a hulking giant of a man. She suddenly felt very small.
His facemask hid his smile of amusement. "Being away from Dxun, I've found myself somewhat in want of the company of...slaves."
He was horny, she knew. Incredibly horny. Mandalorians took what they wanted, and during their war on the Republic, they had taken as many women as they wanted, forcing them into bondage and degradation.
"Well, I'm not a slave anymore, so you'd better look elsewhere," she hissed before turning around. And yet the tingling between her legs had returned, summoned by the unbidden memory of being a Mandalorian slave. Granted, while being a slave was in itself degrading, she had enjoyed her greatest pleasures for being one. She hesitated.
Sensing her hesitance, Mandalore took a step toward her, setting a gloved hand upon her shoulder from behind. "You may no longer be free, but still you are a slave. You know what to do to please your master."
"You're not my master!"
"Take my cock, you little bitch!" he hissed in her ear. "You want it. You think I can't smell your arousal? Your cunt is aching for it. Who else are you gonna' fill that wet hole with? The Exile? The scoundrel? Wouldn't you rather have a
real
man?"
She shivered at his nearness, unable to deny the yearning welling within her. She turned around, her bosom rising and falling with heavy breaths. "You...you don't tell anyone."
"By my honor, I won't."
Her hands moved over the links of his armor with such speed that it made his answer seem irrelevant. She would have craved him even if he had said that he'd tell the entire ship of her promiscuity.
His own hands lent their assistance until the armored suit was scattered upon the floor, leaving him in a pair of shorts that did little to obscure the size of the treat she was in for. His cock looked so large even now, still covered by his undergarment, that she let out a slight moan in anticipation. Her right hand ran over the bulge, and she felt it throb to her touch. Looking up at him, her green eyes filled with a sudden, bottomless yearning, she moved her other hand up to his mask.
"No," he said while brushing her hand away, indicating that the mask would stay on.
Kinky
, she thought.
"You know what to do," he said.
Her legs trembled and she fell to her knees in front of him. That bulge in his shorts was so tremendous, a giant treasure ready to be explored. She pulled the undergarment down, and a solid spear of flesh slapped her straight in the face. She giggled uncontrollably as he looked up at the massive cock. She breathed in his scent, so musky and rich with the odor of his manliness. The cock itself was huge, a thick sausage erected from a mound of curly hair. Even the balls filled her with desire.
"So big," she muttered as her right hand reached for the shaft, her left moving to cup his balls.
"Bigger than you're weak Republic men," Mandalore sneered. "You miss Mandalorian cock, don't you?"
"Oh...so much bigger," she moaned. Her hand worked along his length, wanking him with a delicacy born of practice. His muscular body trembled with pleasure, and his cock was standing straighter, harder, pointing its accusing eye directly at her.
She sighed in ecstasy while jerking him with one hand and tugging on his balls with the other. The head began to drip of a sleek whiteness, and she pushed her tongue forward in a gentle lick. "mmm...."
"Oh...suck it, bitch." He gave a thrust of his hips, pushing his cock against her face. "Suck it, you little whore!"
She hesitated, but then shivered as his cock rubbed along her mouth and chin. She took in a deep breath and parted her ruby lips. First she slid the meaty head into her mouth, suckling around it. Mandalore was trembling with pleasure, his hands reaching for her hair, pulling her closer to him, pulling her down along his thick meat.
Mira closed her eyes as she worked her mouth around his cock. She had to open her jaw all the way to accommodate the immense girth, and then Mandalore began to thrust into her waiting throat.
She started to gag but managed to relax and calm herself. When she opened her eyes, she saw that her nose was pressed against his pubic hairs, his balls slapping at her chin. She pushed herself even further, moving her tongue to lick at those deliciously salty balls.
"Oh...oh yes..." Mandalore looked down at this little bitch, a smile on his face behind the mask. His hands went to her shoulders, where he tugged at the fabric of her tunic. Soon the material began to fall, cascading around her waist to reveal her milky breasts. He reached down, cupping one tender globe in his hand and roughly kneading it. "You miss sucking Mandalorian cock, don't you? Say it, bitch. Tell me that you miss Mandalorian meat."
