Be Enjoyed
by Hannah Ma    HannahMa57@hotmail.com

Rating: R, romantic
Disclaimer: the usual. I'm not getting anything for this except a lot
of hot flashes...

During my time in the prisoner women's quarters I had amused
myself by reconfiguring the viewing screen, which somehow had
been left unlocked, until I tapped into the bridge surveillance cameras.
I could see all that the Dark Lord could see from his very throne,
including Vader himself when he came to the bridge. Admiral Piett's
bearing was perfect; he showed neither nervousness nor alarm when
Vader was watching, appearing to trust that quiet efficiency would be
justly approved. As for me, I approved; the men under him listened carefully, obeyed smartly, didn't loaf or put out less than their best. A good sign, I thought. Everything about him pleased me. And need I say how my eyes dwelled on his straight carriage, his broad shoulders, his elegant legs in their tall boots...

When at last I stood with the others for the sharing-out, I knew what I had to do. Vader hastened down the line of women, barely looking at us, thrusting a finger at one man or another and gesturing for him to take the woman he indicated. Striding past me, he pointed at some beefy youth. I spoke firmly, but softly. "No, Lord Vader, " I said. "You are making a mistake."

Astounded, he almost lashed out at me with his mind, but stopped. He stood still for a moment, the blank black insect-face before me, and I did not drop my gaze.

"Who, then?" he rasped at last.

"That one," I said, and I pointed.

Piett's face froze. I read resistance in every line of his body, and I read his reluctance to object.

Vader moved on. "Give no further trouble," he flung back over his shoulder. I did not have to answer.

I was taken to the Admiral's quarters. They were not roomy, but there was a kind of masculine luxury there; a brocaded spread on the pleasantly wide bed, a rug on the floor made from the hide of some spotted animal, a metal sculpture of a racing beast. I studied the ancestral tapestries that covered one wall; his home system, clearly, with unusual looking trees and one moon in the sky.

When Piett strode into his cramped quarters he found me sitting quietly on the bed. He thrust aside the embroidered hangings and looked at me sternly. I looked up at him, and he read in my eyes no fear, only admiration and desire. I saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes; had he little experience, then, in taking captives? He stood as stiffly as if on parade.

"Undress," he commanded.

I smiled.

Start as you mean to go on, I thought. Let him know he can have the best. I sat back, propped myself on my arms and said, "I've got a better idea. You undress."

Again that flicker of uncertainty, then he was again in control.

"Do as you're told," he snapped. "Remember your place or it will be the worse for you." He reached out a hand as if to strike me, but seemed unwilling to carry through; and I sat up and took his hand.

"There's no need for this, Admiral Piett," I said softly. "Why force yourself through a tiresome rape when you can simply lie back and be enjoyed?"

Caught off guard, Piett allowed himself to show his complete bewilderment. I rose to my feet, and my eyes held his. He was intoxicatingly close; with an effort I mastered myself and managed to draw back.

"You need rest," I murmured. "Sit".

Piett did so. I knelt at his feet, pulled off his boots, laid them neatly aside, took one of his stockinged feet and ran my thumbs down the sole. Involuntarily he wiggled his toes, and I allowed myself a silent giggle. When had this soldier had anyone make love to his feet? Such was our first caress.

After paying my attentions to both feet, I rose, daringly sat down beside him and picked up his hand and began a hand massage. They were strong hands with square nails, and I felt faint with the thought of having these hands on my body. I circled my thumbs on his palms, squeezed each finger in turn and wiggled it gently in its socket, slid my fingers between his.

"Piett," I mused, looking up at him "After whom are you named? Some great artist or hero?"

"After my father," he said shortly.

"And was he in the Imperial service?" I asked.

"Yes," said he with obvious pride. "And his father, and generations before that."

I asked him about his home planet, and soon he was telling me about his rise in the Imperial navy, but when he reached the point of his promotion to admiral he fell silent, and again a brooding expression came into his eyes.

I took his hands. "Why do you serve Lord Vader?" I asked.

Abruptly he cast me aside and jumped to his feet. "It is my family tradition." he said angrily. "Lord Vader is the Emperor's trusted servant."

"Indeed," I said, smiling as I rose. "He is a mighty warrior. But he is dangerous, because he envies you." My admiral frowned, and I said, "You have something he can never have."

I drew very close. I saw the smooth weave of his uniform; the finest cloth, I thought, that any system had to offer, for the finest officer.... Piett didn't seem to know what I meant, but his heart was telling him. "What do you mean?" he asked in a low voice.

"The love of women," I murmured.

I put my hands on his shoulders. Yes, the cloth was soft under my fingers as I gently caressed him. I wanted this uniform away now, nothing between this man and my yearning hands. "You're handsome," I breathed, and I kissed his mouth.

My heart was racing, I trembled, his arms went round me and at last I stood in his embrace, telling him with every molecule of my being that here was something new for him, a woman who had chosen him out, who knew the best and was taking it, who would enjoy him with her lips and hands and body and mind, surround him as his ship held its atmosphere and breathing him in like oxygen, delighting in him as he has never experienced before.

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

Part 2:

As I stood in my Admiral's arms, trembling with anticipation and joy, I had no thought any more of strategy, of escape, even of serving this man a banquet of delights that would win him: I had no thought of any future but the few moments to come, the overwhelming rightness of where I was right now, his arms round me tightly, the masculine smell of skin and the firmness of his collar against my cheek; and now he turned his head a little and again our lips met. The tide of sensation then swept me out to sea, drowned me in desire, robbed me of any thought at all.

Eventually I drew back a little and my hand wandered to the shoulder-fastening of his tunic.

'How does this come off?' I whispered.

He showed me. The tunic came off and was dropped to the armchair nearby and the shirt followed, and I saw to my delight a beautiful torso, sculpted by hard work.... so he had not been simply flying a desk, as they say of office-bound drones..... he seemed made for women, no, for me alone.

My hands wandered over his arms and shoulders, round to his back. Oh, how sweet it was to touch his skin! My lips sought out the pulse in his throat and I nuzzled there, aware of the clean masculine smell of him. I bit his neck and ears, I closed my eyes as his hands travelled over me and explored me.

We stood embracing. I held him close and once again became lost in his kiss: then I drew my hands down his chest. I circled his nipples with my thumbs; he was breathing harder now. I stooped to lick them gently --his hands on my waist tightened-- and I slowly knelt and reached for him and he helped me open his trousers and slip them down, and then the underwear. I helped him step out of them and he was naked before me, his erection standing up stiffly. His fingertips were gentle on my shoulders as I slid my hand up his thigh, cupped and lifted his balls, grasped his stiff shaft.

I looked up at him. His eyes were closed, he swayed back and forth a little, and I saw his lips part in a soundless gasp when my tongue tip touched the head of his cock. With feather-light caresses I explored him, kissed him, took him into my willing mouth. I grasped his penis in one hand while my other roamed over his skin wherever I could reach; I felt his fingers tighten and heard him moan softly.

My wanting was too intense now to bear. I rose, I pressed myself against him with a whimper, running my hands down his arms to his fingertips. I led him to the bed, and he lay down without taking his eyes off mine. Shaking, I dropped my gown and underthings to the floor, and he held out his arms to me.

And what then? what then? when our bodies lay pressed together with our hearts pounding as one, his cock pressing urgently against me... my thigh was between his and my hands holding his head as I kissed him, pressing his head back against the pillow, and I was lying on him, his cock touching me, so wet where I ached for him, and then sliding in.

My body arched over his, my centre of desire surrounding him, telling me of splendid completion even at it cried for more. I rocked back and forth with mounting urgency, writhing to the touch of his hands on my breasts. I bent toward him, kissing him, thrusting my tongue into his mouth, shuddering as he thrust into me below.

Both of us were groaning now, his pelvis rising to meet mine with each stroke, a crescendo of wonderful agony that burst over me like a nova. Orgasm seized me and shook me until I fell forward, crying out, clasping him, rocking over onto my back and pulling him into me. He responded as I had wanted, driving harder, deeper, as I wrapped my arms and legs round him, wanting all of him, more and more, till I felt him gasp and tense and shudder inside me as he came.

For another long time I held him so, feeling our breathing slow, kissing his shoulder now and then, not wanting him to leave me by so much as half an inch. And he did seem to doze for a little while; I felt moved to tears by the sweetness of having Piett sleep in my arms. Then at last we rolled apart.

He seemed in no hurry to go. He drew the coverlet over us and reached out an arm. With a sigh of contentment I cuddled up to him. After a moment I lifted my head and said, 'I have a request.'

His eyes flew open. Was I about to give trouble already? 'What?' he demanded.

'Move up the bed a few inches,' I murmured, 'so my feet aren't over the edge.'

And at this daring demand-- to be more available for cuddling-- he grinned widely, then laughed aloud, grabbing me and squeezing me tightly. He did move up, I arranged my head on his shoulder with a sigh, and then we slept. As I drifted away, I knew I would wake beside him. Not once, but many times. Some distant time I would leave here with him. Perhaps there would be battles before us. Perhaps some day--who knew?--Piett would be my captive, led before the rebel leaders, protected by me, accepted as the fine soldier he was, now in a better cause. And if that happened, once again, his surrender would be his victory.