Title: Chain of Command
Author: Jenny Dare
Subject: A man in power. A woman who likes it. PWP with a narrative
twist!
Archive: Sith_Chicks...anyone else please ask!
Feedback: Please! Even if you hate it!

Disclaimer:  Don't own him, wish I did but then he'd never have any time to
defeat the Rebellion 'cos he'd be too busy with stuff like what
follows here. No money being made because hey...that would make me
practicing the oldest profession, right?

Author's notes: Well, this is definitely off the beaten path as far
as PWPs go...in the way its written, and also the person involved. To
be honest, I've never actually written a PWP and since my heart as a
storyteller is in the narrative sense and always will be, I'm afraid
it's a bit wordy...but perhaps that will draw you gals in on the
object of my lust in this piece: Grand Moff Tarkin! Hey wait! Don't
run away screaming! Go ahead and call me weird for cranking out this
little tale of getting down and dirty with a SW character who has no
redeeming qualities whatsoever! This little idea has been brewing for
awhile, and now I'm just actually getting it down. I think it's a
reaction to my next "Episode" story being heavy on the action and
light on the smut (at the beginning anyway.) So, try this on for
size...and lemme know if you want some more! Alright, without further
ado...
===============================================
Chain of Command
Part 1

I could feel the pit of my stomach knotting into anticipation as I
walked down the corridor to where the meeting was about to convene.
I wasn't needed there; I knew I wasn't needed and wondered if it were
so obvious to any of the other officers that a human transcriber was
less than necessary when there was thousands upon thousands of droids
and recording devices available on a place like the Death Star.

The Death Star.

I was finally here. After months of burning desire, here I was,
stationed at least temporarily and walking within its powerful walls.
The door to the conference room slid open, and I squared my shoulders
as I tried to retain my composure.

Grand Moff Tarkin was the first to speak. All eyes fell squarely on
him as he paced the room slowly, and I tried to keep up with my
transcribing while fighting down my building thirst.

I watched him with rapt fascination. The power that emanated from this
man, this man who was surely more than twice my age was enough to make
me drunk with lust. His presence was demanding, arrogant, so overly
confident that I wanted to touch it, to touch him. He was tall, almost
as toweringly tall as Vader, and he walked with more purpose than
anyone I'd ever seen. I kept looking at his hands. He had thick, long
fingers. And I always knew what fingers like that on a man meant...

My tongue slipped out of my mouth involuntarily as I stared down at
his hands. I slid it along my teeth and my mind gave way to
the unabashed lust that I felt. I thought I heard my name being called
but I was too absorbed in the ideas in my mind's eye to notice.

"Officer Drayson!" he shouted, making me curl up inside with fear and
irrational lust. "Answer my question!" I opened my mouth to answer but
found my breath stole away as I moved my lips. Had he asked me
something? Apparently, I didn't hear.

"Officer!" he shouted again, advancing and standing very close to me.
I looked directly into his chest, not daring to raise my eyes to meet
his.

"Yes sir," I managed to squeak out, hoping it didn't sound as pathetic
as I was afraid it did. I cleared my throat. "My apologies, sir!"
There, I thought. That was a little better.

"I will have a word with you," he growled, still not moving away,
standing so close to me that I could feel the warmth from his body
next to mine. I could catch the lingering aroma of herby soap on his
skin and the crisp smell of starched fabric from his uniform, and it
was a sweet and powerful nectar to my senses. "In my briefing room.
Now!"

Silence hung heavily in the air. This could not be good, and it was
obvious that all around feared for this stupid young woman who dared
let her mind drift in the presence of Governor Tarkin. And now, to be
commanded to go in his briefing room alone...who knew what my fate may
be? Did I actually see sympathy in their eyes as I walked past them
and toward the corridor? It was obvious at least some of them thought
I'd just written my own death sentence.

The door slid shut with a solid lock behind me as I entered the
briefing room. I stood at attention, my hands clasped at my back,
waiting to see what would happen. Again, I caught the scent of his
essence, and it disconcerted me to the point of barely being able to
stand still. His boots clunked thickly against the floor as he walked
a tight circle around me, and I continued to stare ahead, holding my
breath as he came around to face me again. Once more, I found my face
right against his chest, his looming height intimidating and
outrageously arousing. He just stood there for a moment and I watched
the rise and fall of his uniform decorations as he breathed down on
me. Sweet breath. Herby skin. Crisp, clean uniform fabric. I was
dizzy.

"Who do you think you are?" he demanded.

"Sir?"

"Who do you think you are, officer? To stand before me and all my
command, issuing such a lascivious look for all to behold?"

He'd noticed. He was standing there, so close to me now, to taut me
further. It was delicious.

"People have died for less an offense than what you just did."

"I know."

"So how do you feel now?"

"Very tingly, sir."

"Tingly?!" he loomed above me further, his head now hovering above
mine .I raised my eyes and met his, suddenly finding my wit and my
will and one corner of my mouth crooked into a sly smile.

"Yes, tingly," I repeated and in a swift motion I unclasped my hands
and reached between his legs, grasping his package in my palm,
satisfied to find that he was already semi-erect. He gasped
unceremoniously, and his entire body stiffened, but he did not move
away. Never losing the lock of my stare, he began to unbutton the
collar of my uniform, and slowly, firmly, I massaged his growing
member in my hand, through his trousers. The cold air of the room
brought my skin to a chill and as he pushed the top half of my
uniform to the floor and began to undo the slacks, I could feel the
chill of goosebumps all over me. His hands were so large they were
having trouble with the fasten of my pants, and I reached up with my
free hand and pulled at his belt.

"I made special accommodations to get you transferred here," he said
in that  clipped accent that made me crazy, "It's obvious that you
aren't needed for the job you've been sent to do." He finally
released the fasten on my uniform's pants and I had made history of
his belt.

"You must need me for something then," I countered, thrilling to feel
the warmth of his skin as I reached beneath his coat and uniform
shirt.

"It should have been more convenient to just have you here rather than
put through false excuses for a particular officer to be sent here
for a particular job."

It was an amazing rush to see him bend down and unbuckle my boots,
easing the slacks over my ankles once they were discarded. It was a
rush to see this man of undeniable power at my feet, and he knew how
bad he teased me as he slowly made his way up my body, letting his
breath run hot along my legs as he did.

"But," he said, grasping his hand around my arm roughly and pulling
me against him, "with you not even able to compose yourself during a
simple meeting, I'm afraid you will have to be disciplined. I'll not
have anyone suspicious of the reasons why I bring you here."

"What are you going to do to me?" I asked, my voice hushed, "what is
my fate, Governor, for so openly lusting for your touch? For your
flesh against my flesh? For you hands upon my body? What fate awaits
me?"

His hand slipped down over my bare stomach and toyed at the edge of
my underwear, teasing rather than actually making a motion to remove
them. I arched wantonly into his palm and again reached between his
legs with one hand and slid his trousers off his hips with the other.

"Punishment," he growled darkly, with that voice again, the voice
that caused spasms between my thighs. His mouth brushed close to my
cheek and I felt the words on his lips as he spoke them, "Divine,
sublime punishment." At the tail end of his last syllable I caught
his mouth with my lips and hungrily sucked him into a kiss...

Part 2

His mouth was hard, hard like a man's mouth, the pressure behind it
demanding and unyielding, no emotion, no weakness. My own lips felt
springy and supple against his, the firmness of his hard kissing such
a contrast to the softness of the female that I am. I had to crane my
neck up to reach his touch, and the effort that it took him to bend
his head down to meet me was another simple, yet intoxicating
evidence that he desired me.

My tongue snaked out of my mouth and into his at the same moment that
his finger slipped beneath the band of my panties, which were already
damp from merely the sight of him, and even more so from the touch of
him. I moaned into his kiss, pushing frantically with my free hand to
rid him of his remaining uniform, the thick fabric of which was
scratching roughly through my bra and teasing my nipples to
agonizingly sweet hardness.

His fingers slid slowly and with torturous skill along the swollen
slickness between my legs, just barely playing over the hardened nub
of nerves at the fore, making me whimper weakly with unbidden want. I
pulled the band of his briefs away and over his hips, breaking from
our kiss so that I may look upon his thick erection which had been
rubbing up far against my wrist as I caressed it. His size always
took me by surprise; his incredible length, and impressive girth. I
took a moment to drink in the site of him, nude before me. When in
uniform, he appeared quite lanky and almost gaunt. But beneath the
betrayal of clothing, his body was strong and lithe; all toned muscle
and tight skin, sinewy and limber, nearly hairless but for a fine
trail that led from his youthfully taut stomach down to his
beautifully shaped cock. It stood tall, like the rest of him, jutting
out  proudly from a  fine nest of greying curls, the only evidence of
his age aside from his face.

More than anything, I wanted that cock in my mouth. The deepening
exploration of his fingers inside me heightened this desire, and I
began kissing across his chest, bending my head as I intended to
travel down to the floor.  Suddenly he withdrew his fingers and I
moaned in protest, and he lifted my shoulders to keep me from
dropping to my knees.

"No," came his voice, harsh and powerful. He unclasped my bra, the
last article of clothing that I was wearing, and my breasts fell free
and open, the nipples seeming to reach toward him as I arched my back
to offer myself. "Mmm..." came a sound from his throat; he had always
been partial to breasts, and his head bent down for a moment to pay
oral homage to each nipple, swirling his tongue around each one
briefly before he pulled me full against him and lifted me to lock
with his body, again resuming the kiss.

Feeling his cock sandwiched against my stomach, feeling the sleek
muscle and warm flesh of his body pressed against mine was maddening;
I curled my hips into him, but he had something else in mind, and I
found myself deposited on the cold lacquered top of a huge conference
table. I hooked my foot around his back, hoping to pull him into me,
but he pulled away, then moved up my body, pushing me so I would
flatten on the tabletop. The surface was cold against my back, and
again, chill fleeted over my skin as he lay atop me, biting and
sucking against my neck, his fingers playing about my breasts and
stomach, moving slowly down further. I caught his cock in my hand for
a brief moment before he moved out of reach, caressed its tight
underside, ran my fingers along the loaded pendulum of his testicles,
and a hiss escaped his lips, the exhale blowing warm across my
belly. The swollen mushroom head of his cock was slick with his
secretions, and I swirled it between my thumb and forefinger before
he moved away, moving down my body and between my legs.

Tarkin stood on the floor again, bending his head to run his tongue
up the inside of my thigh, slowly inching its way to meet the
juncture of my legs. Once there, he planted several slow and sucking
kisses against the perfect triangle of curls that I always kept
trimmed neatly for him, respecting what a perfectionist he was in all
matters of his life. I had no modesty at this point; I curled my hips
up against his mouth, enjoying the wet pressure of his lips and
teeth, the prodding nudge of his nose against my mound as he lapped
his tongue slowly along my achingly swollen folds. He moaned,
satisfied and satiated himself, burying his face firmly against me,
inhaling my scent, caressing me with those huge hands that covered my
hips, moving me to his liking.

"Love this," he muttered gutturally, his tongue laving all the way up
to the curls, biting and sucking, making me insane. "The brush of
hair on my lip is tantalizing dear Kella…" It was the first time he'd
used my name that day and I almost climaxed just hearing it on his
voice. I opened my eyes long enough to see a satisfied and knowing
look issued from his face, and writhed like a starved animal beneath
his touch.

"You wanton little beast," he whispered, "Have you no shame?" With
those words, I felt his fingers yet again, crooking against me
inside, as his tongue played inside my folds like an instrument of
torture. I reached to pull at his hair, at his shoulders, whatever I
could grasp, and surprisingly, he accommodated me, pulling away from
his feast upon my mound and slinking like a panther up my body to
kiss my lips again.

He tasted like salt and musk. I licked his lips, celebrating
unabashedly in the mingling taste of myself with his saliva. His
stone grey eyes were darkened from the lust I knew he felt, and I was
thrilled to know that reaction was over me. Grasping his hardness in
my hand, I twisted out from under him, turning away and swallowing
his erection fully the second it came to my lips. My hair had fallen
loose of its restraint from all my writhing, and now spilled across
his stomach in shiny ribbons of black silk. He wrapped it around his
fist, pulling my head in rhythm as he did.

"Never cut your hair," he commanded. I hummed a response, vibrating
my lips against his chokingly large cock, eliciting a deep groan from
him. Though I knew his control was well mastered, I also knew he
couldn't last long, not from the reaction I was getting so soon and
the seeping fluids that were creeping onto my tongue. I ran my finger
along the path behind his tight sac, sliding in time with the rhythm
of my mouth. I didn't care if he came right then, the control I had
over him was so heady and so delicious.

Of course, he would only allow that for so long.

As I tightened the pressure on his shaft and quickened my pace,
sucking hard on the engorged tip on each stroke, he began to pull me
away, pull my head by my hair, breaking my tempo. I moaned in
protest, almost as aroused by sucking him as I was when he was
sucking me. But of course, he had other plans for how he wished to
climax, and I was only at the will of his whims, as were all of his
officers under his command...

Part 3

"Come here," he said forcefully, "I want to see you."
I slid up the length of his torso, threw my legs on either side of
him, bending back and poising myself over his slick cock, which
bobbed up in reaction to the heat of my wetness above him. Looking
down on him from my position, it felt as if I were in ultimate
control of the situation.

I was so very wrong about that thought.

He grabbed both my wrists in one of his hands and with the other,
reached down between our bodies and began teasing me again with his
fingers. His hand was quickly made slick with my juices, as I moaned
and pressed against the probing sweetness of his fingers, and
desperately wished that he would fill me with his shaft. I bucked
gently atop him, pulling my captured wrists to my face, kissing and
sucking the hand that held them, running my tongue along his skin,
performing for all the world as though it was his cock. With slippery
fingers below, he began to move the head of his engorged member
against my folds, and each time he came close to my entrance I tried
to bear down and sheath him inside me, but he was too skilled and I
was too clumsy in my fit of lust. Instead, I felt the swollen,
slippery head of his cock sliding deeply against my aching nether
lips and my eyes opened drowsily to see his face, controlled and in
complete command of me, even though he lay beneath.

Finally he released my wrists and grabbed my hips between his palms,
positioning me above his stiffness, moving my body to a perfect
target. With a long, drawn out thrust, he plunged upward, impaling me
on his shaft, slowly, mercilessly, burrowing so deep that shards of
pain streaked through my readied heat. It was exquisite, however, the
pain. And I found myself, on his third thrust, screaming in abandon
as my body took over my reflexes, and my muscles convulsed
uncontrollably as my climax seared through me. Coming down slightly,
I looked down to Tarkin's face, to the sleek skin of his chest, and I
grasped his face in my hand. He took one of my fingers into his mouth
and sucked it, still thrusting up slowly inside of me, already
bringing me back from my spiral and into the fray for another round
of pleasure. He watched me for a few moments, watched my body move
against him, looked down as he sucked my finger to see his cock
thrusting in and out, the raising and lowering of myself around him.

All at once, he pulled me down, pressed my face against his and
kissed me with more force than he ever had before, biting against my
lip, my cheek, my neck. His reserve had finally met its end, and with
a burst of strength he flipped me beneath him and began his thrusting
anew. This time it was fevered, fast and violent, and I groaned an
obscene response to his hunger.

He looked down on me, his gaze hard and commanding, and I wrapped my
legs around his back. He grabbed my ankle, pulling me into a position
only a contortionist should be able to master, hooking my ankle
around his shoulder and thereby thrusting even deeper inside. My body
was bent in two, I could barely breathe from the folded press of my
middle, combined with his riot of his feverish thrusting. Still, the
submissiveness of it thrilled me, and I felt myself on the edge
again, his cock spearing hotly inside of me, his hips losing their
measured control, spasming and plunging, and then, with a groan so
primal and so uncivilized, he thrust deep and stilled inside me, the
gasp of ecstasy catching in his throat in a ragged "ohhh….ahhhh…" the
sound of which trigged another blinding orgasm to rip through me. As
he released  himself within, my contracting muscles milked from him
all there was to have, and the throb of my pulse swelled deafeningly
in my head.

He lay against me for several moments, breathing heavily and just
coming down from the decadent pleasure of our intimacy. I held the
back of his head in my hands, taking advantage of his momentary
passiveness, and moved my mouth to kiss him deeply again, the languid
slowness of our lips sweet and seductive. It was a memory I was
planting, something a woman like me always knows to do with a man
like Tarkin. He had his position, he had his troops and his power,
he even had Lord Vader at his hand, but he always came back to me
for something none of them could offer.

A chime sounded and the voice of a lieutenant I could not identify
came over his com channel.

"Governor... our star destroyer has captured the rebel ship and will
be docking in ten minutes. What orders?" Tarkin raised himself up on
his elbows and directed his voice toward the open channel.

"Have Lord Vader personally inspect the ship. I'm almost through here
with the matter concerning officer Kella Drayson. She is to be
transferred immediately back to Coruscant. I'll expect transport
readied for her departure within the hour."

"Right away sir," came the voice and the channel closed. Tarkin slid
off of me and from the table and gathered his uniform as he walked to
the 'fresher that was off the room. I peeled myself from the
tabletop, and dressed quickly, feeling deliciously and conspicuously
used. I wondered if the rest of the crew would be able to recognize
the scent of sex that must be in the room, and on my person. But in
all truth, I didn't really care. Who would be fool enough to venture
forth with such an accusation even if they did?

Tarkin emerged from the 'fresher in a few moments, his uniform back
flawlessly in place, his hair combed perfectly against his head,
looking none the worse for wear. I approached him with a suggestive
sway in my hips as I walked, fueled by the sublime knowledge that I
was filled up with him, that I had just seen him how his command
would never see him.

"Transferred so soon?" I asked, my voice the call of an innocent
vixen. "Are you sure you can't belay that order?"

"Absolutely not," he said, all stiff regulation and control again.
"I told you that you would be punished for your actions. I demand
unmitigated respect when on command."

"An officer while on duty and a whore in the bedroom," I mused
smugly, approaching him. "And occasionally the briefing room. I think
I can manage that. How long do I have to practice?"

"I can have you reinstated without suspicion in two weeks I should
think," he said, his cold eyes looking down on me as I stood in front
of him.

"Two weeks," I replied, "that's not too horrible a wait, I suppose."
I reached to kiss his lips again, and he bent into my touch, though
his hands remained clasped behind his back. When I pulled away, I
reached to run my hands down the side of his uniform, thinking of the
body that lay beneath. "I'd sure like to see what's on that rebel
ship though. Are you sure I can't stick around for another day? I
promise I'll be on my most professional behavior."

"No." His voice was as cold as his eyes. I still managed to smile a
devious smile at him.

"Very well," I said, patting my hair in it's restraint again, and
straightening my clothes. "I shall eagerly await your summoning in
two weeks, Governor Tarkin. Is there anything special you'd like to
request of me upon my return?" We walked toward the exit, his gait
the same as ever, commanding, arrogant.

"Yes officer Drayson," he replied as we reached the door, "when you
return in two weeks I'll expect you to have no undergarments beneath
your uniform."

The door slid open and I had to hide my shock behind a face of a
chastised officer, which was no easy feat for a woman like me.

.~fin~.


feedback: jeni_dare@hotmail.com