Star Wars: Dark Angel's Embrace

Over the next few years, Lylla tolerated more beatings than any of the other girls. If she fought Malifino back, it only aroused him more. If she didn't fight him, he beat her senseless and bloody, sometimes before he raped her, sometimes after. Trip after trip to the infirmary, session after session with the surgeon and the bone-knitters and the bacta tanks. Every time they healed her up, she would return just days later with cracked ribs or a broken jaw or a fractured shoulder...

Lylla began to shake against Vader. Vader, in turn, could hear the Emperor's maniacal cackling off in the distance of the Dark Side. He knew he couldn't shield Lylla's memories from Sidious, but he could strengthen her, soothe her, bring her through it.

"Did you escape him?" he breathed into her ear.

She hesitated before answering breathlessly, "In a matter of speaking."

"Show me."

She was in another room, a library of sorts. Again, she had performed sexually for one of Malifino's aides for access to the library key. Her fingers flurried across the lit board of the holoputer, until the information she wanted appeared before her. Vader read the words on the projected screen:

Poisons Undetected In the Body After Death.

The images came fast and furious, as did Lylla's execution of her plan. So many favors to perform, timing to get just perfect, the exhausting study of mixtures and formulas beyond her comprehension, but she persevered.

And then the night came, when she came to his chambers, as she had many times before. A blow to her cheek came immediately upon entry, but she took it without screaming or fear. Things were different this time, for the Baron hadn't noticed the syringe tucked in Lylla's hand, the syringe she had stolen during her last trip to the infirmary...

She was quick, and lethal. Her arm swung, and the needle plunged directly into Malifino's throat. Vader watched her snarl of sheer vengeance as she pushed the plunger down, watching the green ooze drain from the tube, watching Malifino's dumbfounded face as it turned pasty, then blue. He watched the brute fall to his knees, reaching for Lylla, pleading with her. And he watched Lylla answer his pleas with a kick to his face and a string of low Correllian curses to not only him, but to his entire, worthless line. She beat him with her fist, screaming, crying, exacting her revenge on him, venting her rage to the universe itself...

Vader dropped his hands, and came around to face her. Lylla hung from her restraints, her head bowed, her breaths fast and hoarse. He touched her chin, and gently lifted her eyes to face him. Her expression was blank, exhausted, but her eyes glittered with tears. "You killed your Master," he murmured.

Her lip quivered. "I had to."

"Were you not afraid?"

"No," she answered firmly. "I knew that I could be put to death, but I didn't care. I could die happy knowing he was roasting in the dimensional hells. And I wouldn't die by his miserable hand."

"You...killed your Master..." Vader repeated absently, as though arrested by the thought, and Lylla saw the yellow spark just briefly in his eyes. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. "What happened after that?"

She sighed. "The constabulary arrived. Everyone knew I had killed him, but...no one turned me in. Even the estate doctor claimed it a heart attack." She looked into his eyes. "No one mourned him." A pause. "Do you want to see more? Most of it is very much the same."

"Just tell me."

"I was traded from owner to owner, mostly to pay for gambling debts. Some were kind, some were not, but all were easily manipulated, and I was always the favorite." The sultry smiled returned briefly. "My last master was indicted for tax evasion. The Empire seized the entire harem as partial payment. I serviced several ships in the fleet until I was transferred to the Death Star." They remained silent for a moment before Lylla stated abruptly, "I want to show you one more thing."

Vader nodded, and leaned into her again, cupping her face. She closed her eyes again and let him in...

Her jaw dropped as she gawked at the monstrous sphere that rose within the viewport. Although it was named 'Death Star', the whole construction seemed alive somehow. It rotated slowly, majestically. Ships of all sizes and makes whirred around the thing, and the light of thousands of viewports blinked from the surface.

She smiled proudly. This was it, the end of her journey, the ticket out of this life. The last five years had brought at least some prosperity; Imperial officers had proven not only to be more dignified and less brutal, but generous to boot. And now, she would be a part of the Empire's greatest triumph, servicing its finest, best-paid personnel. She clutched the purse of credits she had hidden in her bra. It was only a matter of time before she could buy herself out.

Final approach, and landing. Lylla swallowed hard—she was not well versed in space travel, and it always made her a bit motion sick. The whimpers and tense, squeaky whispers of the other pleasure slaves aboard were not helping. She turned and barked, "Keep it down, you pathetic little brats! You don't know how lucky you are!" The girls immediately fell silent, as the Amazonian redhead already intimidated them.

She led the other girls down the ramp, and reveled in the immediate impact she had on the officers in the bay. She purposely dropped her cowl over her shoulders, giving the officers a glimpse of creamy cleavage bound in her tight-fitting corset. A petty officer began a long drone regarding procedures and limits and what was expected of the girls and how fortunate they were and blah, blah blah. Lylla sighed, her attention drifting to the sheer enormity of the bay, the soaring ceilings, the stories of catwalks that lined the bulkhead...until her eyes held, and her breath caught in her throat.

She watched him tread heavily along the catwalk, flanked by several officers who scrambled to keep up. A black tower of leather and flowing robes, the hangar lights glinted off his polished helm. His ebon cape caught the breeze he created with his stride and sheer size. The mask that covered his face was that of a gargoyle, yet his walk was that of a sovereign. His arms looked as though they could split a Rancor's skull against the span of his broad chest, his legs as though they could crush whole planets under his boot. And she could hear his...breathing. It echoed through the bay, a low, hypnotic sound that at once startled her and yet soothed her.

Every officer and stormtrooper stopped what he was doing for the briefest of moments. Some dared to glance at the soaring behemoth, some didn't. But there was no mistaking the force of awe and fear that broke over the assembly, and she heard a name barely whispered amongst them...

Darth Vader.

Lylla stood frozen in her tracks, just as the other girls were being led to the brothel quarters, unable to take her eyes off him. Something stirred deep within her, a feeling she had always forced with every man she had been with. She grew wet, warm, and excitement flushed her entire being. She knew somehow, in some way, this specter, this deadly, magnificent manifestation of machine and man would be a part of her destiny.

A demon prince.

A dark angel.

And then he looked at her. It seemed as though he sensed someone was not averting her eyes. He stopped at the catwalk's rail and peered down at her. The officers around continued to brief him on various aspects of progress and construction, but he paid them no heed. He didn't move, didn't speak and, of course, she couldn't see his expression. He merely...looked at her.

"You!"

Lylla snapped out of the dark stranger's spell on her. She turned to see the petty officer march toward her. Forcefully, he grabbed her arm and began to drag her. "Keep up, and stop gawking! Do you know what Lord Vader could do to you?! Who do you think you are...?"

The vision subsided, and the dimness of the chamber seeped back. Lylla opened her eyes, and gazed into Vader's. "I've loved you from the first moment I saw you," she murmured simply.

And suddenly, the Emperor was gone.

Vader furrowed his brow as he sought out his Master's presence. But Sidious was nowhere to be found within the Force. Had he seen enough? A sick feeling began in his gut, but he quickly dismissed it. Palpatine would have to wait.

He lifted his hand. The ripped dress unwound itself from the struts above, and unwrapped from Lylla's wrists. Gently, he caught her and cradled her into his arms, lifting her as though she was no more than a child. She nuzzled her cheek into the crook of his neck. The metal arms encircling felt cool against her skin, despite the oppressive humidity in the room.

He carried her a few steps into the darkness, and she felt him lower her down. The smooth feel of silk greeted her flesh, and she contentedly sank into the softness of what was obviously his bed.

She was quiet for a time. "Is the Emperor still watching?"

"No," Vader answered.

"Then it worked?"

Vader stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"I know you didn't want him to watch us," she replied simply. "You used my memories to distract him."

Her insight was uncanny. Again, he scanned her for any Force ability. He found none. He patted the sweat off her body with the sheet as he silently contemplated everything he had just seen.

She had killed her master. Without fear, without remorse. A mere pleasure slave. She did it to save her own life, but he had felt her rush of savage delight break through him when she plunged the poison into the degenerate's neck. She had taught herself to read, and studied different languages. And, despite her ambition and sheer will, she remained patient, she bided her time, secretly scorning those gluttonous fools who thought her lower than themselves, while using her charms to convince them otherwise, hence ensuring her own survival. Born into despair, betrayed by fate for many years, until this moment as she lay in his bed.

He searched the Force, trying to find an answer, a sign. He had been so alone for so many years. Perhaps after all these years, a new mate had finally presented herself. The perfect woman, a fitting partner... not for Anakin Skywalker, but for Darth Vader. He wouldn't find a queen. He would create one.

"You are an extraordinary woman, Lylla."

She gaped a bit. "You...mean that?"

"Yes. Your cunning and intelligence are most impressive, as is your will to survive. You are truly worthy of my favor."

"But," she breathed, flustered by the Dark Lord's compliments, "I was a slave—"

"I was born a slave," he confessed.

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"I was born on Tatooine, to a slave woman. Named Skywalker." He waited. "You do not recognize the name?"

"No. Should I?"

She was becoming more ideal with each passing moment. He smiled slightly, feeling a bit relieved. "No."

Lylla raised herself onto her elbow. "But...I thought you were royalty. A prince, perhaps—"

"I am a Lord of the Sith." His tone indicated he had nothing more to say on the subject.

Lylla gaped at him, utterly aghast. Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, she bolted upright and pulled him to her, crushing her lips into his and brazenly wrapping her hand around his shaft. She stroked him, firmly and smoothly as Vader responded with a primal grunt, roughly pinned her against him, taking her tongue, her lips. Lylla broke the kiss just long enough to pant, "Take me, now, please, I'm begging you..." against his lips.

He forcibly pushed her onto her back and, gripping her under her thighs, jerked her to him. Lylla gripped him again, pulling him to her, guiding him into her. He hooked one mechanical arm under her knee and pulled her leg up and high as he drove into her in one violent thrust. Lylla cried out, raising her hips off the bed to pull him in. Regaining some control, Vader began to pump her in a slow, heavy rhythm. He cast himself into the Force to soothe his raging desire, to ease the pain that racked his body. No, he would not allow himself relief before her. He would make her scream his name over and over. He would make her his, and his alone.

She snapped her hips to meet every thrust. Vader grabbed her wrists and pushed them back on either side of her head, holding her helpless. Lylla tossed her head back and forth, bucking passionately beneath him, mouth agape, her hair wild and spread about her like dark flames. She keened furiously as she felt his thickness fill her, stroke her, bringing her closer and closer...

So warm, so wet, so eager and taut. Unable to feel her flesh with his hands, he bent his head and savagely took a breast into his mouth, lathing her nipple with his tongue, nipping with his teeth, before moving to the other. A sharp gasp shocked her body when she suddenly felt him inside her mind, her soul, like she did on the Death Star...

The sinister angels had returned, caressing her flesh with fingers of fire, kisses of frost. When she opened her eyes, she could see them around her Lord, undulating over him, silhouetted by the streaks of black lighting lancing through a blood red sky. Her shrieks of passion soon changed to cries of pain, of despair as his essence filled her, just as his cock relentlessly filled her sex.

"Show me," she cried, ensnared in the fire of his burning eyes, "Show me, as I did you. Let me in, let me take your pain..."

Vader released one of her wrists and grabbed the back of her neck, forcing her up and touching her forehead to his, never breaking his brutal rhythm. She gasped again as his life, all of it, blazed across her consciousness.

Tatooine, yellow and dry. A flying reptilian alien barking orders. The warm, placid face of a woman, years lining her face, but love sparkling in her eyes. A little boy, blonde, beautiful, but sad. Coruscant. Years of training, of verbal jibes, of unmet expectations, of loneliness. A little green toad of a being speaking in broken Basic. A distinguished man, chiding her Lord over and over about behavior and honor and decorum. And then

Her.

Petite. Beautiful. Royalty. He loved her, how he loved her. A wave of elation as her voice declared

I'm pregnant.

But then dreams, horrible dreams. Death. Her death.

Desperation, rage, fear. Gods she could almost taste it, it was so palpable.

A bargain. A terrible bargain. Promises of life, immortality, of eternal bliss. Never to be. Never...

Her voice again, over and over

I don't even know you anymore...you're breaking my heart...you are going down a path I cannot follow...

And then Lylla saw him ...strong in body, furious in spirit...she watched him unleash his rage, his fear, his pride

You've betrayed me! You don't love me! I shall be more powerful than any Jedi has ever been! And you'll pay! You'll pay for your deceit!

She grasped her throat, no air, choking...his fist curling tight...killing her

A battle. Swords of light clashing. Raging lava and fire all around. The red-haired man again, now his enemy

Anakin, don't do it...I have the high ground

He jumped, weapon raised. A slice of light through the air, a scream

He fell. He saw his own limbs lying in all directions

And then the fire, consuming him, eating him alive

And the man walking awa

Pain. Force, the pain. An operating room, medical droids, limbs of metal and plasteel

And the pain, ever present, never ending—

Lylla shrieked as the orgasm ripped through her like a rampant inferno. Rage, treachery, betrayal screamed through her. Throwing her legs around him, she bucked violently off the mattress beneath him, unable to control her body or her soul. She raked her talon-like nails down his bare chest. Blood seeped from the gashes.

Vader quickened his pace, thrusting faster and harder, even as he felt his weakened heart might burst. But the maelstrom inside him had taken hold. Lylla wrapped her arms around his neck, and grunted in his ear, "That's it, my lord...take me...take me..."

She felt the roar rip through his loins even before she heard it. Vader threw back his head and growled at the ceiling through clenched teeth. Wave after wave of black flames roiled through him as he came, his seed exploding into her, she responding by thrusting him in even further until their loins touched.

Vader held himself above her, desperately panting for breath. Lylla still held him by the neck, and slowly pulled him down, sliding her hands to cradle his head. He brushed her neck with his lips, and she nuzzled her cheek against him.

"I want to bear your son," she finally said.

She felt him tense, and she suddenly feared she had upset him. But before her apprehension could turn to panic, he raised his himself and stated, "You cannot."

"I know," she murmured. "I am barren."

"As am I."

She gazed at him. Touched his cheek. "What happened to your child, my lord?"

A pause. "He died with her."

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

She ran her hands over the gown, luxuriating in the play of skin against silk. But when she looked in the mirror, her satisfied grin faded. Stepping toward the mirror, she ran a hand through her hair, which had grown another twenty centimeters since her arrival. And her eyes glittered so pale, they were almost white.

She turned to Vader. "Should I be concerned?"

The low thunder of a chuckle came from the mask. "That all depends. How do you feel?"

The grin returned. "Invincible."

"Then it is of no concern," he answered simply.

Lylla laughed, and spun around, sending the voluptuous skirt spinning about her.

Vader rose from his seat, and paced the breadth of the huge antechamber, the only furnished room in the entire palace. But since this room was not equipped with a hyperbaric system, he had changed back into his armor. He came up behind Lylla, sliding his gloved hands over her shoulders, joining her hands in their play. "It is time to be serious. You will spend 4 hours a day with your protocol droid. You will cover such lessons as etiquette, Imperial history, political structure, and the names and titles of Core aristocracy. Understand?"

"Sounds awful," she huffed.

"Perhaps," he replied, "but you will have to be versed in these things if you are to be my mistress."

She started a bit, and leered at him in the mirror. "Is that what I am?"

Vader nodded once. "Expect an invitation to the Coronation Day celebration."

Lylla turned, and placed her palms against his chest. Leaning into him, she looked up into his eyescreens. "I will make you proud, I swear it."

Vader paused before rumbling, "I expect nothing less."

There was no ground, no gravity at all as Lylla stepped through the enormous palace doors onto the speeder dock. She felt as if she floated, unfettered by anything within this physical realm. She stopped for a moment, and looked into the Coruscant sky. There, she didn't see just black, but every unimaginable shade of it, and all the colors of the spectrum within it.

She touched the brand between her breasts. Still warm. Her mind still reeled with the images she had seen. One in particular invaded her thoughts, and her lip curled over her teeth.

"Foolish little bitch," she snarled at the image of Padme.

But then she laughed. This simpleton may have destroyed him. But she would rebuild him.

"Well, well, well...what have we here?"

The human girl in the sumptuous bed stirred at the sound of the rich baritone across the room. Propping herself on her elbow, she smiled dreamily. "Something interesting?"

"One might just say that." He ran his long fingers through his topknot as he perused the image on the holoscope.

The girl slid nude out from the covers, and slinked across the sumptuous animal furs thrown about the marble floors. The air still hung with the scent of exotic incense mixed with the musk of sex and pheromones, and she breathed it deeply, stretching her arms over her head. She lowered them to wrap around his muscled green-skinned torso, sliding her hands into his silk bottoms. "Xizor, come back to bed..."