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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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter 3
He can tell she's hurt pretty badly, and he doubts she'll be able to walk for very long if at all. His anger subsides as he watches her drag her forearm across her mouth, pulling a trail of blood with it. There's blood on her face, in her hair, across her arm and dripping from her hand - he can't even tell where it's coming from, and he finds himself hoping it’s not all hers...though he suspects it is.
"Get up," he says harshly, impressed as she manages to pull herself up on wobbly legs. She sways dangerously and he steps forward, impatiently hoisting her up over his shoulder without regard for her comfort. It doesn’t escape him that she chooses not to resist, but instead twists to protect her ribs from bouncing with his steps.
Her side aches terribly and she feels another wave of nausea, but neither dreadful sensation can drown out the way his hard grip feels on the back of her upper thigh as he stalks away with her. Her excitement quickly fades however as she realizes the crowd is growing and everyone is watching them. She doesn’t know where he’s taking her, but she imagines the outcome will be unpleasant.
She pushes off his back to look around, still holding her ribs with one hand. Her hair sways back and forth in front of her face, making it very difficult to see. She doesn’t have to wait long; he arrives at the center of the hangar and unceremoniously dumps her back to the ground. Fortunately they’re on some sort of soft pad, and the fall doesn’t add to her injuries.
“Stay,” he says, pointing at her as she moves to a kneeling position, bracing herself with her free hand. He circles behind her, and she hears the buzz of his lightsaber come to life. She twists around to look at him incredulously.
“DOWN!” He yells, using the force to shove her back to her hands and knees in a forward leaning kneeling position. “You took three lives from me, and you only have one to trade in return,” panic wells inside of her as he paces. “Now it belongs to ME,” he snarls. His lightsaber crashes into the ground next to her, leaving a deep gash in the pad. She jerks in fear, and for a few, long seconds the room is deafeningly silent. She cringes as she feels him gently move her hair to fall over one side of her shoulders. Her ribs scream in protest when he reaches into the neck of her tunic to pull the fabric taut against her chest and away from her back, slashing the fabric open with his saber. She struggles to hold what’s left of her shirt to her chest, absolutely mortified and sure it can’t get any worse.
"You think it can't get any worse," he taunts, eliciting more fear from her. His voice is deadly calm, sending a shiver down her exposed spine. “We’ll see,” he says for the second time that day. His hand snakes into his long coat and unfastens a thin hidden belt. She can’t see it, but she can hear the leather sliding through loopholes as he whips it out and folds it in half.
Her body quakes. The rhythm of her own breathing becomes all-encompassing as she waits for the first blow to fall, blood dripping from her chin to the ground. She watches it fall, and splatter soundlessly. Her eyelids drop against the revulsion she feels at the sight of her own blood, and she whispers so quietly only he hears her…”I hate you.” She hears the belt fly backward...pause…and then everything goes black.
He continues to hold the belt over his head for a moment when he sees her collapse into the pad, the connection to her thoughts gone quiet. Roaring with anger, he whips the ground next to her. The audience startles, and many turn to leave the hangar.
“Get her cleaned up,” he commands, flinging the belt at the nearest storm trooper, who signals to a woman in servant’s clothing. “I want her in my private quarters in an hour, since you’re all incapable of securing a single, little girl.”
Kylo heads straight for his quarters, keeping his mind locked onto hers in case she wakes up and attempts escape again. She had been so close…those idiots. He pulls his overcoat off and throws it on a nearby table. Lowering himself into a chair he works on the laces of his boots, kicking them off into the middle of the room. He stands and makes his way to the washroom, removing more clothes along the way before dropping it all in a pile next the shower and stepping inside. He turns the water on, leaning against the wall and letting the water cascade down his back. It’s cold initially, but that’s not enough to quiet the raging desire coursing through his blood. His hand drops to his throbbing dick, squeezing and pulling torturously slow.
That little bitch. He lets go of his dripping cock, his jawline hardening. No, there will be no release until he’s inside of her. His manhood strains against the thought. He imagines her trembling on her knees before him, bleeding onto the floor and saying “I hate you,” over and over again until he feels he might burst with want. Even when he’d entered her mind and made her want him she’d yelled for him to stop. No one was ever that strong. The thought of chipping away at her defiance until she was utterly and completely subdued stirred a fire in him he feared he couldn’t control, deciding he had no intention of trying.
He gets out and dresses in the simple clothing of the First Order; a colorless t-shirt and matching pants. The clothes are boring, but comfortable. His shirts have become a little tight under his growing muscle and he makes a mental note to request a larger size. He pulls a table chair from the middle of the room to the wall by his bed and slouches into it leaving his legs stretched far in front of him. Before the hour passes there’s a notification at his door - she’s arrived.
His face hardens as he waves the door open, standing to tower over the storm trooper carrying an unconscious Rey. He doesn’t invite them in, but leans down to gather her into his own arms, glaring with disgust until the storm trooper asks, “Anything else, sir?” Kylo only sneers before he closes the door between them.
He looks down at a sleeping Rey and scowls. While her injuries conveniently appear to be one-sided, her face is a goddamn mess. He sighs and lies her down on the bed, positioning her on the uninjured side and pulling the blanket up to her chin. He backs away, still warm from her heat pressed up against him. He finds his chair and settles back into it, imagining their bodies pressed together in many other ways. His eyelids open and close lazily for a while, before he finally succumbs to the need for sleep.
-
Rey begins to stir; disoriented. She’s lying on a soft bed in an unfamiliar and dimly lit room. She moves very carefully, accounting for all of her injuries. Lifting the blanket, she can see she’s wearing only a lightweight elastic band around her breasts, and a pair of soft, loose pants that greatly resemble those of medical uniforms. Her ribs are tightly bound by medical tape under the makeshift bandeau, and her right hand is bandaged. Remembering the belt, she flexes her back and breathes a sigh of relief when there’s no discomfort.
She pulls the blanket back and swings her legs over the side of the bed. She can see what she hopes is a washroom in front of her, and stands to make her way to it. In her haste to relieve herself, she doesn’t see the large figure reclined in a chair against the wall and yelps when a hand shoots out to grab her wrist. She blinks at a maskless Kylo Ren, who is staring at her with an awkward look of confusion. He relaxes with recognition as he lets go of her wrist and falls back against the wall, closing his eyes.
Rey stands motionless for a moment, but when he doesn’t say anything she heads for the washroom and closes the door behind her. While she’s carefully washing her uninjured hand, she looks up into the mirror and her mouth falls open at the damage that’s been done to her face. She doesn’t even shake the water off before turning her head slightly to the left and lifting her fingers to touch her face gently. The right cheek is stained deep shades of black and blue, and her bottom lip is sewn back together by at least two stiches. She turns her head to the right and is relieved to see the left side is mostly unchanged, with the exception of dark circles under both eyes from exhaustion. Her hair is clean, falling in pretty waves down her sides. It looks out of place around her battered countenance, and for a moment she’s embarrassed to be seen like this. She giggles at the ridiculousness of that thought, then grimaces. She takes one last disconcerted look and leaves the washroom.
Her eyes dart directly to the chair he was sprawled out in and find him awake, looking annoyed. Her adrenaline surges and she hobbles back to the bed as quickly as possible, delicately holding her ribs. By the time she painstakingly climbs back in, she’s too tired to even pull the blanket back up to her face and she simply lies there pathetically.
Kylo stands and walks toward her. He takes note of the way she’s lying carefully on her left side, yet tilting her nose so far toward the mattress it’s obvious she doesn’t want him to look at her.
She can hear him moving closer to the bed, but makes no effort to face him. She hears rustling of clothing and feels the bed dip; her heart skips a beat as he climbs in and pulls the blanket over them both. Wordlessly he scoops her hair up and lifts it over her head and away, so he can put his bare chest flat on her back and rest his chin just above her head. He’s considerate enough to drop his arm over the front of her hip rather than her ribs, and although she winces when he ever so slightly pulls her back into him she doesn’t protest. Neither of them say a word, and soon they’re both sound asleep.
-
Hours go by before she wakes up again, and this time her body is buzzing with warmth. She feels him drag his lips across the base of her neck, his hand sliding up and down the length of her hip and thigh. She intuitively stretches beneath him, grimacing when her ribs protest. Her head clears instantly and she freezes. “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice weak and high pitched.
His free hand glides into her hair, and he threateningly twists a fistful around it pinning her in place. “I’ve already established I take what I want,” he drawls. She shivers beneath his touch and his hand slides into the waistband of her pants. She gasps and grabs his wrist, attempting to pull it out of her pants with all of her strength, only managing to hold it in place. “Don’t fight,” he says in an eerily monotone voice. Her eyes widen in alarm as her arms go lax and she relaxes into his hold against her better judgement.
“Stop it!” She squeaks.
“Stop doing what I can feel you enjoy?” He asks, his hand dipping back into her pants, his fingers squeezing the bare flesh of her thigh.
Rey’s cheeks burn with embarrassment, but he’s not wrong. He pushes her knee up toward her chest leaving her exposed to him from behind, and excitement rushes through her. Violently their minds connect and she’s flooded with his desire for her, taking her to a dangerous place of lost self-control. His breathing grows heavy on her neck, his hand sliding across her ass and toward her sex. She cries out as he gently slides one finger between her slick folds, the roughness of his skin sublime against her sensitive skin.
Her breathing becomes raspy, and he asks in a strained voice, “Do you still want me to stop?”
She hesitates, torn between desire and pride. Her eyes squeeze shut and through clenched teeth she defiantly says, “Is this the only way you get women to fuck you?”
He jerks her head back, growling “Cum,” into her ear. It feels like her body shatters into a million pieces as her nerves explode from the force of her orgasm. For a moment everything around her disappears and she doesn’t hear herself moan with pleasure.
“No,” he replies smugly, pressing his finger firmly against the pulsing lips of her pussy.
Her eyes sting with self-loathing as she comes down from the high, her heart fluttering. She has no time to process the feeling before he pulls the long digit back and then presses it forward into her entrance. He pushes his finger swiftly inside of her, all the way to the hilt. The sting from being penetrated so quickly rips through her, but soon dissolves as his finger begins vibrating into the back wall of her pussy. “Oh fuck,” she says.
He inhales sharply, feeling both her pain and pleasure through their connection. He gives her pleasure no time to build, sternly saying “Cum,” once more. She convulses around his finger, crying out again. He leaves his finger still until her contractions stop, then he slowly drags it out of her. She trembles beneath him, just as he imagined she would. He shoves her pants down off her hips, then reaches into his own to free his aching cock. He slides the hard length of it along the outside of her wetness, groaning at the divine sensation of pushing himself between her thighs.
“Say my name,” he grounds out. She can feel the pressure of his force against her mind, the words “Kylo Ren” nearly forced beyond her lips before she can suppress the urge. She feels intense discomfort in denying him, and he feels it too. His grip tightens on her hip and he says it again, “Say. My. NAME.”
She takes a shuddering breath against the blinding agony of denying his order, but then something shifts and her mind clears. She shoves forcefully back into his own thoughts, and as though it’s second nature a name springs forth from her lips.
“Ben.”
He breaks their bond, and the desire she feels for him abruptly subsides as his own passion recedes from her mind. Her victory is short lived however, as he shifts them both and positions himself just outside her entrance. Without sharing any of his pleasure to dull the pain, he buries himself inside her.
She howls, her muscles straining against him. “Is this what you prefer?” He says roughly. She whimpers and he feels pleasure so intense he almost explodes with it. Pulling out slowly and slamming himself into her again, he groans as she wails and bucks in protest. “You’re so wet for me,” he purrs. She flushes indignantly, and he nearly loses all control. He holds her in place and fucks her hard, his own release approaching with every tormented sound she makes. He feels the barrier of her mind fall, and licks the length of her earlobe then commands her to cum one last time.
Her misery fades to mind blowing ecstasy for a third time, and she cries out in strangled relief as her agony disappears and her walls squeeze hard against him. He grunts with his own orgasm, pushing his seed deep inside her with every uncoordinated thrust. He slows to a stop and they both pant with exhaustion.
She struggles to control her emotions, failing as she says through humiliated tears, “I hate you.”
He untwists the hand wrapped in hair, smoothing it softly away from her face. Her stomach twists with sickening shame as he confidently replies, “I don’t think so.”
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Interrogation