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A Fall From Above	By : Poem Category: +G through L > Knights of the Old Republic Views: 25239 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, or any of it's characters. I make no money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Wooh, sorry about the wait guys! Moving's crazy.

Wanted to take a quick break to see what was going on with Bastilla. Back to Carth and Revan after this ;] Also, warning to all, this one's Dom/sub heavy and has tentacles. If you don't like, don't read.

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Bastilla was far from conscious when the lights flicked on around her. She hadn't been fully conscious for days now, or what she thought had been days. Brejik, as she had learned the dark man was called, had taken to the habit of turning on the neural inhibiting slave collar he had around her throat whenever he left her, after several misguided attempts to escape. He had allowed her to try, he told her, so that she would know how fruitless it really was. How impossibly far escape was from her grasp, and how completely and utterly she was his.

She had learned her lessons well. The first attempt had earned her a flogging. Brejik told her he had gone easy on her, but the pain had still been impossibly bright. The second and third attempts were met with a worse form of torture, and she had not tried again after that. Anything she could do to avoid his displeasure, she would do without hesitation. She had come to fear the man deeper than any Sith.

Bastilla was almost glad that he kept her numbed like this while he was gone. It made her thoughts slow, and so, so unsteady, that she was never able to ponder on one thing for too long. If she did, she might have broken. Perhaps he knew that. Perhaps he knew if Bastilla Shan was ever again aware of what she had become, she would break into a million fragile pieces.

The first time had been child's play. He had taken her virginity, though years of training and fighting had robbed her of her hymen, for which she was grateful. The pain had been enough without the torn flesh. But he hadn't stopped there. He had toyed with her for hours after, bringing her to cum over and over again, against her will, even when she swore she would not let him get her to again. It was like she no longer had control of her body. Her mind had stayed strong for a long time, but her body was his, his to command and control. And when he said “Cum”, she could do nothing other than obey.

She thought that was it. She was sure, once he was done with her, he would sell her off to the highest bidder, and she might have a chance to escape. But Brejik had come to enjoy his play thing too much for that. While she might have fetched a great price in the market, he chose instead to offer her up as a prize for some upcoming swoop race, sure that this would force the other gangs to raise the pool, and, since he was sure he would win, keep her in his grasps and still get paid.

In the meantime, she had become Brejik's new favorite play thing. Oh, he lent her out to one of his crew here and there, but very sparingly, and only to a very select few. Mostly, he kept her for himself. And used her often.

Brejik's tastes were wild and unpredictable. One day he might be in to chains and whips, and another might be into a simple rough fucking. Sometimes he liked to use all sorts of toys and other days he used only his hands, and his cock. There were even days he was almost sweet. But always, always, he made her ask before he let her cum. Every time he felt her close, he would slow to an agonizing torture until he pulled the plea from her lips. Every time she swore she wouldn't, and every time her body won out over her mind. She could not beat him. And her body was so trained now, it yearned for him, even when he had numbed her mind to nothing. Her body had betrayed her.

When the lights flickered on around her, she did not notice. She was too far gone, in some vaguely nice thought about a planet she had visited years ago. It wasn't until he spoke that she was dragged into reality.

“Slave,” he crooned to her, running one hand up her thigh in a lazy, affectionate gesture. Her body stirred at his touch, his voice alone enough to bring gooseflesh to her arms, and the beginnings of yearning to core. She felt her lips moving, making the shape of her response, though the muscles of her throat were too weak to give it sound. She knew he would see nonetheless. He always watched her carefully.

“I bought you a new toy,” he told her, and she heard a hint of glee in his voice. He was excited, she realized through her haze. Very excited. The last time he had been like this, he had found a gel that paralyzed her throat alone, allowing him to fill it with cock and toys alike without her gagging and retaining her ability to breath. He had played with that all through one night and into the next morning, even bringing two of his closer “managers” (as he liked to call them) to try it out as well. The excitement sent a strong jolt of apprehension to her gut, coiling there in fear, but excitement as well. What had he brought her?

She felt his warm hands at her throat, adjusting the color and releasing the majority of its hold on her. He always left it partially on, keeping her just fuzzy enough that she couldn't think too far. Her head cleared almost immediately, and her eyes darted up to look at him, and dread pooled in her gut as she took in the gleeful, wicked smile on his face. He was holding a sac in one hand, and reaching forward to tighten the straps around her hips and wrists, ensuring she was good and wholly stuck. Only then did he step forward, shifting the sac to the other hand and reaching inside it.

It was good that he had checked the restraints, because what he pulled from that bag made her fight them with all the little strength she had left.

She had no name for the creature. Some small thing, blind and deaf, little feelers lacing over what she would guess was the head. But even as tiny as it was, it terrified her. She knew exactly what he had it for. It wasn't hard to guess, what with the various appendages it possessed.

“Isn't it nice?” Brejik asked, as the little creature wriggled lazily in his hand. The main part of it's body wasn't too much bigger than his palm, but the tentacles fell down past his hand and writhed almost a foot down. They were fat, obscene things, quivering and twisting, and the tips were gently pointed, almost like the head of a cock.

Bastilla struggled against her restraints, wishing for all the world that she could break them and kill this man, and the creature he held. She had allowed many things into her body. But that? No.

“Oh, easy, slave-love,” he crooned, taking a step closer. “You'll like it, I promise. These things are all the rage on Tatooine. See, they were originally little desert creatures that went digging for water. But those Huts bred them for something a little more fun.” He grinned at her then, that wicked grin, and she could feel her body responding in fear and excitement alike.

Bastilla could feel the panic creeping its way into her as Brejik walked out of her field of vision, fiddling with something behind her. The table she was on made a small jerk, then lowered to waist level, and she could feel her heart rate flying in her chest. He often brought the table down so that she might “service him” while he played with her, claiming he always loved the feeling when she screamed around him. It meant that she wouldn't have to speak, and he wouldn't be able to understand any words that happened to slip out. But it also meant he was planning on torturing her for some time.

The dark man stepped back into view, the creature still in one hand, and a long, hooked knife in the other. The knife gave her no fear. She knew what it was for. But her body tensed in terror as he placed the creature on her stomach.

“Hold that a minute,” he told her absently, as he reached down to cut away the thin panties he allowed her to wear. There was something he liked so much about cutting away her clothing, and she was grateful for it. Otherwise, she would have been trapped on the table naked day and night. But today she did not feel the token touch of embarrassment as he leered at her. Her entire attention was on the little creature.

It had sat mostly still for the first second or two, its weight much more than she had expected, and she willed it desperately to remain still. The little feelers on it's body wriggled lazily about in the air, sensing for what, she wasn't sure, but for a while, she was grateful it was that still. That stillness only lasted a few seconds. The fat tentacles writhing about on her, poking and prodding gently against her stomach, moved slowly at first, but as they picked up whatever scent they were trying to find, their movements became more frenzied. One snaked its way up her chest, pressing against one breast, before touching tentatively at the nipple.

She couldn't stop the little gasp that escaped her throat. Her body was hyper sensitive, trained now to Brejik's pleasures, and the fear coursing through her heightening any response she might have. It was maddening. The more terrified, the more angry she was, the more her body responded to his touch. And this was no different. Even the gentle prodding of the bulbous tentacle against her nipple had her body stiffening, and her pussy contracting.

The creature seemed to notice that. The feelers atop its head writhed with more agitation, and a second appendage made its way up to her breast, poking at the nipple along with the first. When it began to rub back and forth against it, her body tried to arch of its own accord.

“As always, my little slave's such a slut.”

Brejik's voice seemed far away today, not commanding its presence in her mind as usual. This was too distracting, the feeling of the tentacles pushing and prodding and rubbing against her body, spreading out from the source to find new places to explore. Her skin was tingling all over, and she could feel the need for them to find certain places, and satisfy the burning that had started up there.

When the first tentacle made its way slowly towards her hips, her breath hitched up audibly, the speed rising until she was nearly hyperventilating. It was sliding against her, strangely hard for such a mailable looking appendage, and she could feel her body willing it to go lower, even as her mind rebelled against what was happening.

It seemed to get excited as it got closer to her sex. It writhed more violently, pushing and slithering its way down her as it struggled to get closer to whatever scent it was picking up on. Others followed it, branching down from the main body and catching up swiftly to the first. The two at her breast abandoned their post, and the whole creature dragged itself down her stomach, wriggling towards their mark with increased enthusiasm.

“You're gonna love this, slave.”

Brejik's voice at her ear startled her away from watching the creature, and she turned her head enough that she could see him. He had leaned down to her level, so that they were ear to ear, his arms stretched out on either side of her and his eyes fixed hungrily on the thing crawling across her. He wasn't looking at the panic in her eyes, but she knew he knew it was there.

“Woman pay thousands of credits for one of these. They'll trade anything to get one. And here I got one, just for you.” He was grinning now, his broad smile stretching to show bright teeth fixed in malice.

“Please.” She hadn't meant to speak, but the word tumbled off her lips before she could stop it. She was trembling now, fighting herself not to continue, not to lower herself to begging him. She had begged enough.

“Please what?” he asked her, inching closer to speak directly into her ear. “Please let it fuck you? Please let it shove those fat tentacles in you until you can't breath, and you can ask me to cum?”

Bastilla pulled away from him as far as he restraints allowed, shaking her head vehemently. “Get it . . . off me,” she almost whimpered, and the part inside her that had come to hate her so writhed in anger. How pathetic was she?

Brejik pulled back to look at her, his dark eyes unreadable. Silence fell for a long few moments as he stared, and she wanted so badly not to be the source of his scrutiny. She could still feel the little creature, wriggling its way further down, and a panic was creeping through her. But she dared not speak again.

“You're not being very grateful,” the dark man told her, letting a small frown grace his lips. He glanced down to the creature, eying it for a moment, and then breaking into another smile. “But I understand. Maybe you want to save that for later.”

Hope and a tentative relief washed through her at his words. He would still use her, she was sure. Probably punish her as well. But at least that thing would not be inside her.

Brejik leaned down next to her again, his smile sweet and gentlemanly. “All you have to do,” he purred. “Is beg for my cock instead.”

Bastilla paled. He was so cruel. And she never saw it coming when he was like this. She had come to understand his wants and desires to a degree, and maybe if she had been outside the situation, she would have known what this would cost her. But when she was here, strapped to the table and wishing desperately that the little creature wouldn't touch her, while her body cried out for that very touch, it was hard to see much of anything.

“No,” she whispered, looking at him in horror. How could he ask her that? She had said many things in the throws of pleasure, when he had twisted her up so that she didn't know who she was or what she wanted. But this? She wasn't out of her mind. And in her right state, she would never beg for this man's cock. She was a Jedi. And she had been so pure. She would not lower herself any farther.

He could see the stubbornness in her eye, the wicked grin telling her all she needed to know. He had no intention of letting her off easy. He had had this planned out from the beginning. Either he got to see her contorted to pleasure by a creature, or he got her to beg for his cock instead. Either way, he won.

“Oh? You'd rather have that slimy little thing in your cunt?” She shied away from him at the words, her skin paling further. “Don't put it in me,” she wanted to beg. But the part of her that was still strong refused to back down, to give him what she wanted. Her jaw set, even as her eyes looked down in horror as the thing inched closer towards her.

He laughed, that cruel laugh of his. “Fine. I don't mind. I'll enjoy it just as much watching you cum from that little monster.”

Just as his words were fading, she felt the cool touch of something at her nether lips. Gentle though it was, the light pressure brought her arching off the table, her overly sensitive body trembling at the sudden pleasure washing over her. It had brushed right against her clit, and it seemed to know this was where it needed to be. Another push, this one harder against the sensitive bud, had her gasping, and the first hints of a moan curling their way from her throat.

“Slut,” she heard him whisper in her ear, but she couldn't concentrate on him. The little creatures had none of the slow build had that Brejik so enjoyed. When the first tentacle found her, the others followed swiftly, shoving and writhing against each other as they searched for their own purchase on her pussy. They fought over the clit, like each one had a separate brain, and they rubbed harshly back and forth as they forced themselves onto her. The moan that had been threatening broke her lips as three twirled about each other, and about the little nub, as they vied for space. She could feel her body clenching and coiling, the first hints of her orgasm already threading their way through her body.

In their shoving and fighting, one found its way dangerously close to her entrance, and she cried out, as her body arced up, trying to meet it.

“No,” she gasped, her hands clenching and unclenching above her head. “Please, Brejik, please.”

She gasped, in pain this time, as his hand wrapped itself in her hair, twisting it harshly to the side so that she was looking at him. His eyes were hard as he looked down at her, though the smile was still threatening on his lips.

“You do not use my name,” he hissed down to her. Then his voice softened. “If you want something, say 'sir'. Try it now. Say 'please, sir, can I have your cock instead?' Try it.”

The laughter was back in his eyes again, and her stomach coiled in shame as she looked up at him, realizing that she wouldn't try to say his name again. That was all it took, and she would obey him in that. What had she become?

“Please.” Her voice was barely audible, no more than a whisper, but still it was so hard to make. She wanted to cry then, as the creature rubbing so sweetly against her clit and down her pussy, and her body ached for it to fill her. But she didn't. Some part of her was still a Jedi, and she looked at him through dry eyes. “S-sir, I-”

She never got to finish, never got to know what she was going to say. As the words started to leave her lips, one of the fat tentacles fond her entrance, and shoved itself inside her.

Bastilla's voice cut into a cry of pleasure, her body arching up to greet the invader openly. She had been so wet that one sharp thrust got the thing most of the way inside her, and it wriggled eagerly, trying to fill more space. The feeling was exquisite, thick and full, and writhing within her, and she couldn't help but moan, wonton and blind, as it worked its way into her. For a few moments, she was oblivious to everything around her as it worked furiously at it. And then, when it couldn't possibly fill any more, it stilled, and she was able to breathe again.

The first thing she registered was Brejik's laughter. He had walked around her as she arched, finding a spot to get a good view of the show she put on. His hands were lain across the end of the table, resting his weight on his arms, and that cruel smile was back on his lips. In an almost lazy gesture, he reached forward, prodding the tentacle that had buried itself with her. Immediately, it twisted inside her, and she screamed as it pressed insistently against that sweet spot.

He let her catch her breath before he spoke again.

“See?” he asked, the cruelty in his voice twisting coldly. “I told you you would like it. My little Jedi slut.”

Bastilla shook her head weakly, struggling against his voice and the pleasure wracking though her body. Her breath was coming so heavy now, she was having trouble getting oxygen, spots of color blossoming in her vision. The creature had stilled once more inside her, but she could still feel the little twitches that told her it wasn't quite done. She wanted it out. Her body loved the feeling unquestionably, but her mind could not tolerate it.

“Please . . . sir . . .” she began again, struggling to get the words out. They came in gasping whines, and she fought to keep herself from breaking down then, and begging him for anything that would make this end. “Please . . .”

“Oh, slave-love, you should see this. What a sight you are.” The words were hissed at her from the other end of the table as he crouched down to look closer at the creature buried in her pussy. “Your all wet and puckered up. And god, doesn't he look happy, all buried up in your cunt.”

Shame burned through her, and she twisted in her restraints, working desperately to pull away from it. But she was weak, so weak, and when the creature twisted inside of her in response, she melted back down, letting out a low moan.

“And you know the best bit about these things?” Brejik asked her, as he leaned forward to look at the sight up close. “They're looking for moisture. See, in the desert, they dug into pits and caves to find enough water to coat themselves in. But these. These were bred to find . . . haha, a different kind of moisture.” He was grinning so broadly it scared her, and she pulled weakly away, tugging at the restraints as he reached forward, one hand outstretched to the creature. “And once you teach them how to get it, they do it quite happily.”

With a sharp jab, Brejik prodded the creature again, bringing it back to its writhing state. A brutal pleasure washed through her as it forced its way further inside her, pressing so firmly against her cervix she cried out in pleasure and pain. He didn't let it alone, forcing it to stay in motion, to keep writhing within her. His other hand trailed up to brush against her nub, between the writhing tentacles, and she jerked sharply, tightening around the width inside her. He did it again, and again, rubbing and stroking the little pleasure buzzer until she was moaning without thought and rocking on the table against the ministrations of man and monster alike.

The tentacles around his hand writhed with him, pushing to take their place back, until finally he let them. Immediately, they were mimicking his actions, rubbing and stroking and writhing against her clit, drawing gasps and moans from her as easily as he had. As she tightened, the appendage within her continued to writhe, until it found that sweet spot once more and pressed deliberately against it.

“See, they learn so fast,” he told her, and even in her distracted state, she could hear the fascination in his voice. “Once they learn how to milk you of all your sweet juices, they'll keep it up until they're nice and slick.”

The tentacle inside her had picked up a good rhythm, starting to pump rather than writhe. Each time it struck her cervix she cried out in pain-pleasure, and rocked against it. Each time she rocked, the tentacles at her clit rubbed harder, bringing her closer and closer to orgasm. It was a dangerous mix, too powerful for her to fight.

When her orgasm came, it was hard and mind-blanking, wiping all color to white and bending her across the table as she screamed. There were words on her tongue as she came, though she couldn't tell what she was saying. Her body had taken over, taken control of everything, even her voice, and she couldn't stop herself from crying out as she rocked against the creature.

She came down from the high slowly, her mind so blank as to be numb, and she shook slightly from the exertion. Somewhere far away, she could feel the creature still pumping away at her pussy, and knew she was moaning quietly along with it, but that was her body. Her mind was near dead to the world.

Bastilla was so far gone that when the straps were removed from her, she didn't even notice. It wasn't until Brejik was tying her into more straps that she was aware she had been moved. Slowly, her vision came back, her breathing began to slow, and she looked around her, wondering what had happened. She could see her usual table now, the straps laid forlornly across it, looking so bare without its captive. She could feel the worn wood under her stomach, and she knew where she was.

It was a high bench like thing, with sturdy legs and various hooks that you could tie ropes off on. He had a great fondness for fucking her on it, as she was bent over and vulnerable, and she had come to loathe the thing, knowing it was the only place he ever used when he felt like anal.

She was too tired to struggle as he finished strapping her to the wooden piece, and she let herself drape over it limply, unwilling to fight him while still coming down from her high. The creature was gone from her, she noticed, and she wondered vaguely where he had put it.

His hand struck hard against her rounded ass, and she arched her back sharply, hissing in pain. Brejik was standing next to her, almost out of sight, and she could see his hand was raised for another bite of her flesh. She cringed away from it.

“Calm down, slave,” he purred, as he let the hand rub roughly over the mark he had made. “I'm just going to give you what you asked for.”

“What I asked for?” Bastilla repeated vaguely, confusion in her voice.

“Oh yes, you didn't hear yourself?” Her stomach flipped in terror as he leaned down to whisper directly in her ear. “'Oh, yes, please fuck me, sir.'”

“No,” she responded immediately, her mind and body alike rebelling from his words. She hadn't said that. It was impossible. She knew she had talked when she came, but that? No! “I didn't!”

He laughed cruelly at that, reaching under her to twist a nipple in between his rough fingers. “Oh yes you did. You're body knows what you want.” He released the now sore pink nub and walked around behind her, the familiar sound of him shedding his pants as he went. A moment of silence, and then she felt something hot and slick pushing against her pussy. For a moment, she considered struggling. But she was so tired and there was no way she had said that, and she was just too confused. The dark man paused before he shoved into her, resting a hand on her naked back.

“But you know, it would be pretty mean to deny our little friend from the fun, too,” he crooned, and she could hear his laughter still. “After all, he was the one who fucked you first. And he's not all slick yet.” The familiar heat of Brejik's cock was suddenly replaced with a writhing mass, slapping against her as it searched desperately for her entrance once more. She cried out, pulling away from the feeling, but unable to go more than an inch or two. Brejik's laughter filled her ears as she felt the tentacles wrap around her thighs, steadying themselves, before reaching out for her pussy once more.

There was no poking and prodding this time. They knew what they were doing, and the moment one met the wet heat of her mounds, it shoved itself roughly into her still-tight hole. She screamed at the rough intrusion, trying again to pull away, but she was good and stuck. The creature wasted no time in pumping her like before, forcing her back towards the fevered pitch from before. The other tentacles found their way back to her clit, working and rubbing at it with all her might. They had her moaning and breathless again when she felt Brejik pressing against other hole.

Bastilla gasped, pulling, trying desperately to get away. But the dark man didn't give her the chance, shoving his oiled length slowly and steadily into her ass. She screamed once more, louder than before, and writhed in her restraints, her mind assaulted by too many things to form a coherent thought. He went slowly at first, feeding his length bit by bit into her tight sphincter, groaning as he went, until he had filled her with his length. The pain was sharp and blinding, and she screamed as he bottomed out, pushing her past where he usually stopped. “He's ripping me apart,” she thought wildly, before the creature at her cunt wiped all thought from her mind.

It had found her sweet spot once more, and was working it for all it's worth, desperate to get all the juice it could from her. It pumped and writhed and fucked her, each thrust drawing ut more liquid for it, filling the air with wet sloppy sounds. But it wasn't enough fast enough, it seemed. A few hard thrusts, urgent and desperate as she tightened harshly around it, and then she felt the second pushing at her entrance.

“No, please, fuck,” she screamed, as it began to force its way inside her, pushing past the first as it tore her open.

Brejik was bigger than these things were, and some of the toys he had used were obscenely large. She had been stretched, and taught to take massive amounts of abuse. But this wasn't something she had expected. Her body had not been eased into it, and she had not been prepared. When the second pushed past her walls, filling her so deeply, the pleasure-pain was so blinding she was lost to the world, her body taking over once more as her mind receded from the assault.

“Oh, god, please, yes,” she could hear her voice grunting, in between the moans and cries of pleasure. Nothing had ever felt so good, so bright, as this. Her whole body lit up at the assault, the feeling of the twin tentacles fucking her cunt, writhing through that thin membrane against the cock filling her ass. She couldn't think, couldn't see, could only wallow in the incredible pleasure wracking her body right then. She was moaning in bliss when Brejik's voice came hard behind her, in between his own groans of pleasure.

“Ask me,” he commanded, and her body didn't hesitate.

“Please, god, let me-, ah . . . cum.” Her body was already tightening in preparation, every bit of her pulled taught like a string, simply waiting on his command as he pounded her roughly from behind. The fat tentacles fighting their way into her pussy, pounding her mercilessly, pulling out only to be replaced by another, were simply too much for her, and she knew she was lost, whether he gave her permission or not.

“Cum,” he commanded.

And she did.
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A Fall From Above