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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter 4
He lies in bed with her for a while, idly twisting his fingers in her hair. Eventually he stills, his breathing falling even with sleep. She carefully extracts herself from his hold, readjusting her pants and sliding out from the foot of the bed. She feels unbelievably sore, walking gingerly to the washroom. It takes her a moment, but she finally figures out the shower knobs and the water runs blissfully hot over her fingertips. She gently removes her clothing, alarmed by the blood plastered to her thighs. Mortified, she unwraps her wound dressings and steps into the shower.
Her eyes close under the heat of the water, blood and their combined fluids circling the drain. She finds masculine-scented soap and scrubs every part of herself, including her hair. Still feeling weak even mild exertion, she steps out and wraps herself in a towel. She finds a comb and pulls it through her hair before exiting the washroom to search for clean clothes. The best she can find is his discarded shirt, which happens to fall nearly to her knees and smells just like him.
He rolls over just as she’s pulling the shirt over her body and his blood stirs at the sight of her naked. Her breasts are small, but perfectly shaped with beautifully rose colored nipples. She’s a little skinny, but pleasantly muscular. His eyes narrow on the yellow and purple splotches along her right side as she drags the shirt down and he notices she’s moving slowly as to not cause herself pain.
“You need new bandages,” he says, startling her.
“I’m fine,” she replies, stretching the bottom of the shirt as far over her legs at it will go.
He climbs out of bed and she blushes at the evidence of their coupling on the sheets. If he notices he thankfully doesn’t say anything.
He grabs a roll of fresh medical tape and heads toward her. “Lift my shirt,” he says, unnecessarily pointing in her direction as though she’s too stupid to understand. She turns scarlet at the way he possessively says my, clearly meaning the shirt she’s put on, being that he’s not wearing one. Deciding not to argue, she lifts the shirt back up to the bottom of her breasts, exposing the rest of her completely.
“Higher,” he says.
“Oh, come on!” she bemoans.
“I can’t wrap your ribs if you’re covering half of them,” he says pointedly. “I wouldn’t have to do it at all if you’d just been obedient in the first place.” Her expression turns to one of defeat. “Higher,” he repeats.
She pulls the shirt up and over her head, her tormented gaze meeting his as the shirt slips from her fingers. It takes everything he has, but he maintains an air of disinterest as he guides her arms above her head and expertly wraps the bruised section of her ribs. He is surprisingly so gentle it doesn’t hurt at all, and despite being completely abused by him she begins to feel an inkling of gratitude. He finishes the wrap and meticulously flattens the adhesive end of the medical tape to her good side, seemingly oblivious to the hard nipple only inches from his face. Without another glance at her naked form, he lowers himself to pick the shirt up from the floor, his hair brushing her hip on the way back up. He hands it to her and she scrambles to pull it back over her head.
“Your hand,” he says.
“Excuse me?” She asks.
“Your hand - give it to me,” he responds, holding up bandaging.
“Oh,” she says, holding her right hand out toward him.
He bandages it, tying an intricate knot on the top and tucking the edges into the folds of the wrap. Instead of letting her go, he pulls her into him and tilts her face up to his, placing his thumb on her chin. She holds her breath, astonished when he dips to press his lips into hers. The kiss is entirely unexpected…gentle, warm. Rey melts beneath him, her lips parting when his do. His tongue darts daringly into her mouth, circling hers. He pulls back, grasping the uninjured corner of her bottom lip in his teeth before letting go.
He returns to full height and feels excited by the half-lidded, pleasantly surprised expression on Rey’s upturned face. She may be a challenge, but she’s not impossible.
“Rest,” he says, headed for the washroom.
Her face falls, disappointment washing over her. Embarrassed and conflicted, she turns back toward the bed and jerks the blanket back. Once again confronted by the deep blood stain on the sheet, her first response is to put the blanket back and cover it, looking over her shoulder at the washroom door. This is the most mortifying situation of her life. Finally deciding she can’t rest on top of bloodstained sheets, she takes the blanket off and removes them, balling them up into a pile near the bed. She crawls back onto the bare mattress and pulls the blanket up to her chin.
When he leaves the washroom, he’s wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He sighs when he finds her out cold, her hair hanging off the edge of the mattress and the soiled sheets with proof of her virginity in a heap on the floor next to the bed. His pulse surges at the sight of her blood, filling him with possessiveness like he’s never felt before. He very seriously contemplates waking her up again, but neither had eaten in what felt like days, and she needs to recover. Pulling his robes over a clean set of plain clothes, he dons his mask and waves his door open, stepping into the hallway and locking his quarters behind him.
When Rey wakes up there’s a delicious smelling hot meal on the table waiting for her, along with a stack of clean sheets. The soiled sheets are gone, and she’s thankful she got to sleep through the humiliation of their replacement. She crawls out of bed and takes a seat at the table, devouring the meal immediately. It’s a simple fare, but like nothing she’s ever had before. There are at least five different choices of food, and none of them are in any way dehydrated or non-perishable. She finishes nearly all of it before finally feeling too full to continue.
Instead of getting up she simply leans back in the chair, but then thinks better of it when her ribs ache from the position. Getting up, she slowly begins replacing the sheets. “What the fuck am I doing?” she says aloud, freezing in place for a moment before continuing. What choice does she have but to cooperate? She can’t escape in this condition, she can barely walk at a normal pace let alone run. The g-force of flying would likely be excruciating as well. She’d only just had her first meal in a full day, and was still too low on energy to get very far in the galaxy without needing to rest. No, she had no choice – she was stuck here, with him. There was no reason to make things worse for herself, she thought.
She was finishing her chore when the door slid open, Kylo Ren striding into the room. Pulling his mask off as the door shuts, his eyes locate her first before he works to remove the rest of his outer garments.
“We got new sheets,” he says lightly. “We’re going to ruin those as well.”
She shudders and looks away, her face deepening in color. Wearing only his shirt and pants again, he moves over to her by the bed. She looks up at him, afraid to blink.
“Are you scared?” He asks
“Yes,” she says without hesitation.
“Good. It turns me on,” he replies, his voice deep with want.
She visibly swallows, her gaze dropping to his collarbone. She can’t keep defying him if she ever wants to recover. Looking back into his eyes, she says, “Is there anything…” she licks her lips nervously, “…anything I can do to make this easier on myself?” She finishes, her eyes pleading.
He feels heat unravel in the pit of his stomach and begins nodding. “Yes,” he says, his voice deepening even further, “You can do what I tell you to do.”
She shivers as he reaches into her hair with both hands, leaning forward to cup her face. “Kiss me,” he says.
She hesitates; torn between wanting to say no and at the same time desperate for him to be kind to her. What is wrong with her, why would she want that? He waits patiently for her to obey him, and in the end her latter desire wins out. She stands on tip-toes to innocently press her lips into his, squeezing her eyes shut with the humiliation of it.
He groans into her mouth, one hand twisting further into her hair to hold the back of her head and the other dropping to dip under the shirt she’s wearing. Her heart hammers into her chest as his free hand moves up to cup her breast, hiking the shirt halfway up her side. She cries out when he finds and rolls her nipple in-between his fingers, then whimpers when he squeezes it harder in response. She doesn’t like when he hurts her, but the way his lips break free of hers and whisper, “God, yes…” and the way he leaves a tantalizingly soft line of kisses across her jawline to her ear before saying, “You’re so beautiful,” turns her knees into jello and her sends liquid heat to her core. She can’t explain it, but it pleases her to please him; to sacrifice for him.
Without warning he scoops her up into his arms and climbs into the bed, lying her down beneath him. He hauls her into a seated position to briefly pull the shirt up and over her head, tossing it to the ground. His own clothes are discarded and thrown in the same direction. When she tries to cover herself, he pushes her chest back into the mattress, grabbing both of her wrists and pinning them over her head with one hand. She panics and struggles, protesting the restraint.
“Stop,” he commands, “I’m not going to hurt you.” She stills and he yanks her legs apart, positioning himself between them. He leans forward into her, spreading his own legs wide on the mattress, effectively forcing her knees up and her legs open so wide it hurts. She cringes in pain, confused by the mismatch of his actions and words.
Kylo feels her thigh muscles contract around his own, and suppresses a victorious grin when she slides her legs up to wrap them around his waist. It is no doubt a more comfortable position, albeit the only option he gave her. He reaches down between her legs and finds her sensitive little nub, smashing his lips into hers as she groans and bucks against him. He dips his finger down, stealing her own wetness to rub over her swollen little clit and she nearly screams into his mouth. She’s soaked for him. He reaches out to her with his mind, his senses flooded by her pleasure combined with his; yet he withholds his own from her. When he dips his finger into her wetness again, he feels the soreness there. He feels her tense with discomfort, and his manhood flares with excitement. He desperately wants to plunge himself to the hilt inside her, driven to the brink of self-control by the thought of experiencing her agony from both points of view.
Taking a ragged breath, he leans back and gathers his self-control. This is the first time she’s been compliant, he must reward her; show her how generous he can be. He finally allows his own desire to spill into her mind, and her eyes glaze over from the bliss of it. He has complete and total control of her mind, and the satisfaction of it pushes him over the edge.
She feels him position himself at her entrance and lifts her hips to allow better access. His eyes flicker with desire and he turns his head to the side in an unconscious attempt to hide his pleasure from her. Completely relaxing her arms under his harsh grip on her wrists, she twists her hips toward him once more and says, “Please.”
He exhales sharply, slowly pushing himself into her. She moans with the ecstasy of his mounting desire combined with her pain, an utterly confusing yet euphoric combination that threatens to send her over the edge. He pauses with the realization she’s close to orgasm, determined not to allow it before he decides. He ebbs the flow of his own pleasure from entering her mind, and presses forward a little harder than necessary. She hisses through clenched teeth, flinching from the pain, and he releases the heady satisfaction he feels like a crashing wave into her mind.
“Look at me,” he growls, his nose an inch from hers.
Rey feels her body flutter to the edge of release, and complies immediately. She feels sucked into his soul when their eyes meet, absolutely bare to him, and it’s intoxicating. He stares unblinking into her eyes, watching her struggle to keep them open with every shallow stroke. He builds up to a flawless rhythm with his hips, and she instinctually matches him thrust for thrust. He begins to nod as she starts shaking, her climax threatening to spill over any second.
“Now,” he says, bringing her to orgasm and slamming into her with his own simultaneously.
His body slows above hers, and he rolls to her side, facing her. She struggles to bring her breathing under control, peeking up at him through wet lashes. The force of her orgasm had brought her to tears. She felt like she would explode under the weight of conflicting emotion flowing through her when he finally broke the silence.
“Do you still hate me?” A knowing smirk spreading across his face and a strangled sob her only answer.
- 3
- 4
- 5
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Interrogation