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Interrogation	By : fairglenn Category: Star Wars (All) > Het - Male/Female Views: 36598 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Interrogation
- 2-Escape
- 3-Punishment
- 4-Submission
- 5-Home
- 6-Resistance
- 7-Broken
- 8-Dependency
- 9-Shift
- 10-Victory
- 11-Reconnect
- 12-Struggle
- 13-Turn
- 14-Forever
- 11
- 12
- 13
Chapter 12

The next phase of training began the following day.

“You need to learn to fight,” he says.

“I know how to fight,” she retorts.

“You need to learn to fight better,” he shoots back, silently daring her to challenge him. She swallows, fearful about what lies in store for her now. “It shouldn’t be painful,” he says, sensing her growing trepidation. “We will practice your immediate compliance with my force suggestions. I know the training methods and fighting style of the First Order; you cannot hope to fight successfully without my command.”

She wordlessly concedes, knowing he’s right. They walk side by side toward the all-purpose arena in the center of the ship, and she slows her stride to let him pass just enough to watch him without being noticed. She’s been practicing a subtle mental block she hoped he couldn’t detect, and so far he seemed completely unaware when she employed it. Studying him as he walked, she noted he almost always seemed confident in his stride. He stands straight, carrying an appearance of absolute indifference. The only sign he’s prepared to engage in any sort of conflict are the curled fists at his side. He never seems to relax his hands.

They round the corner and enter the arena. Rey takes a deep breath, not quite sure what to expect. He stops in the center of the room, turning to face her. She’s sure she must look terrified, looking up at him with eyes the size of saucers. She doesn’t bother trying to hide her concern, she has no pride left when it comes to him.

“When I suggest movements to you, you’ll feel compelled to make them,” He says. “Relax, and do everything I compel you to do.”

She nods, completely opening her mind to him. At first nothing happens, but then she feels it…a compulsion to hit him. She twitches, but stops herself. Surely that can’t be right…? He reaches out and grabs her by the jaw, only applying minimal pressure but terrifying her just the same. Her adrenaline spikes, heightening the connection between them.

“Do you want us both to die?” He asks. She shakes her head furiously in his hand. “Again,” he says, dropping his hand to his side. She falls back to her heels and stumbles backward, realizing he’d lifted her to her toes with his grip. She concentrates on clearing her mind, squaring her body in front of his.

This time when the compulsion comes she doesn’t fight it. Her hand flies toward his face, and he blocks the blow flawlessly. Instead of retaliating he compels her attack him over and over again, her moves advancing in difficulty as the training goes on. They fight like this for close to four hours, taking small breaks as needed, him never once attacking her in return.

A full week of training like this goes by, each day ending with an amazing sexual encounter he compels her actions through as well. This is her favorite training in acquiescing to his force suggestions, and she learns all kinds of ways to please him. Bringing him effortlessly to climax with her mouth had been her absolute favorite, the experience eliciting a perfect mix of humiliation and excitement within her. She could feel his blood boil at the sight of her lips wrapped around his hard flesh, then the pleasure of his climax as she sucked the seed from his body. It had been the most exquisite release he’d had with her.

On the eighth day in the arena, he begins the practice of reaching for her and compelling her to block him. He makes no attempt to actually hit her, he simply places his limbs within reach for her to block. As his confidence in her submission builds, so does his intensity. He’s reaching faster; getting closer to an actual blow. She can feel his excitement building and then it happens – she misses a block. His fist grazes her chin, and she jerks her body away from him, tumbling into a fall to the ground.

“Focus!” He yells, squeezing his hands so tight his knuckles turn white.

She hops back to her feet, focusing on receiving his next command. He takes a deep breath, and she can see that he’s rattled. When the next compulsion comes it isn’t to block, but to strike. They were back to her attacking him. I must not be performing well enough, she thinks disappointedly as he blocks her kick. To her relief he begins to mix his own attacks back in with hers after a few minutes, and the two of them continue to switch back and forth for the rest of the afternoon. She’s thrilled when there are no more slip ups.

She thinks no more on it until later that evening when they’re lying in bed. He’s drifting into sleep when his mental barrier wavers and she feels a rush of anxiety. Her connection to his emotions disappears as he slips completely into sleep, but it’s too late – she saw the problem. He’s afraid. Afraid of hurting her. She can’t believe she hadn’t realized it, but he has to practice blocking from her point of view, and it’s distracting him to think he might miss a blow and seriously injure her in the process. All at once she understands. They aren’t dealing with belts and slaps; they’re learning to fight and defend themselves to the death. At some point in this training, he has to try to kill her…and then he has to defend her successfully from himself. He has to do it over and over again, and he cannot fail a single time. She’s overwhelmed with sympathy for the position he’s in. On one hand it’s truly humbling he’s so concerned for her safety considering their history, but on the other it’s heart wrenching to imagine the great level of concentration, discipline and trust he has to foster with her. If either of them aren’t paying full attention, or ready, he could kill her.

She turns to her side and snuggles into his heat. He unconsciously pulls her tighter into his hold, and her stomach fills with butterflies. She really does love him. He’s stripped her of everything that made her autonomous; completely controls her ever decision, knows nearly her every thought. In the beginning she’d absolutely loathed that about their connection, but now she feels inseparable from him. It’s a relationship she never could have imagined, and never wants to live without again. She yawns, soon succumbing to a dreamless sleep shortly after him.

-

He’s still sleeping when she wakes up. She shivers, pressing her lips into the side of his neck. He grunts, but doesn’t seem to wake up. He’s never woken her in the middle of the night before…but she takes her chances anyway, bravely running her hand down his hip. She squeezes the flesh on his side, where her legs typically wrap around him. He shifts slightly and she slides her palm across his pants, her heart skipping a beat when she finds him already hard beneath her fingers. Yes, yes, yes.

Without opening his eyes he puts his own hand on top of hers and caresses his stiffness through his pants with both of their hands. She groans with wanton desire as his fingers encircle her wrist and he drags her up and over his body to straddle him. She sits still initially, unsure of what to do. He lifts his hips beneath her, sliding his pants down just enough to free himself. His hands glide up her legs and under the long shirt she’s wearing, powerfully grabbing her hips to position her just so above him. She gasps as he fills her, stretches her. Once she’s fully seated, he begins to guide her hips back and forth on top of him in a deliciously slow manner that threatens to send her over the edge in seconds. She puts her palms flat on his chest and moves her hips instinctually with the rhythm of his hands. He lifts his own hips into her every time he pulls her body forward, hitting all of her hot spots. Her orgasm builds to nearly peak level, then steadies just on the precipice of release as he says, “Not yet.” She pants with need, desperate for him to say, “Now.”

“Not. Yet,” he reiterates, much to her disappointment.

“Oh, please…” she groans.

“I don’t think so,” he replies, grinding his hips into her thighs as he pulls her forward again and again on his rock hard shaft.

“Oh Ben, please, please, pleeeaaase!” She begs, her eyes closing, head falling backward. His cock surges with blood inside her at the sound of her strangled cries.

Suddenly she’s on her back as he flips them. Her eyes widen as he pulls his pants the rest of the way off and tears her shirt up over her head, pulling her hair as he tosses it aside. He hikes her thighs up his waist, then reaches forward to hold her to the bed by her throat. His free hand moves to her ass, squeezing her flesh so hard it hurts. She cries out, but is silenced as he increases the pressure around her neck. Her vision swims dangerously as he begins thrusting into her. The sensations combined are so incredible she doesn’t care in this moment whether she lives or dies. She mouths one silent cry after the next, hardly noticing the sharp pain of his hips leaving marks between the legs she has pulled tight around him.

His grip tightens further and she struggles to breathe. “Is this what you want, you little slut?” He purrs. She tries to answer but can’t speak, her body tightening around him shamefully. With the connection open, she could free herself from his hold if she wanted to…but she was quite content to suffocate like this if it meant her pleasure would continue. She places her hands above her head in complete submission, her feet falling flat on the mattress as her strength fades. He relaxes his grip and she sucks in deep, ragged breaths, her vision brightening magnificently at the sudden return of oxygen to her brain.

He slides a hand underneath her back, curling his palm over the top of her shoulder. Reaching up with the other, he pins one of her forearms to the mattress causing her fingertips to tingle at the lack of blood flow. Without pulling out of her hardly at all, he grinds his hips gently into her with perfect tempo.

“I can’t stop it,” she says breathlessly, her body perilously close to toppling over the edge into climax.

“Don’t you dare cum,” he threatens, dangerously close to his own release.

“I can’t…I can’t!” She yells, her voice breaking as she’s overtaken by the earth shattering magnitude of what has to be the strongest orgasm of her life.

He loses control at the sight of her complete abandon, his deep thrusts becoming unsteady as his own orgasm begins to uncoil. Her contractions slow and he abruptly pulls out of her, gripping his cock hard and leaning forward to brace himself over her head. He groans loudly, relaxing his hand to spurt his hot release in between her perfectly rounded tits, catching the underside of her chin. She arches into his expenditure, precisely following his force suggestion to do so.

Empty, he collapses panting to the side of her. She drags a finger through the sticky mess on her chest, then scoops it off into her discarded shirt. His blood rushes through his body as he watches her pull the shirt up her throat, removing him from her chin. She tosses the shirt over the edge of the bed and he pulls her into his side. He’s flooded with anxiety as his feelings for her come to a head with his need for emotional control. His mental barrier is down, and she reaches up to absentmindedly drag her thumb across the stubble on his cheek. The gesture is so sweet; so pure. She’s everything he’s not, and he squeezes her possessively.

Her hand stills as she fades into slumber, turning in his arms to face away from him. He curls protectively around the back of her body, draping his arm over her side to lace his fingers into hers. Placing their interlocked hands into the center of her chest, he pulls her back firmly into him. He can feel her heartbeat in his hand, a small scowl forming on his lips as he also falls back to sleep.
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Interrogation