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Pristine Condition	By : HarrisHawk Category: Star Wars (All) > Het - Male/Female Views: 3863 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The shock had more or less worn off; of course it had been unexpected. When one finds themselves gifted a woman, they generally assume that she has experienced what her primary function is going to be. It seemed his father had made sure this wasn’t the case. In his rage, he’d left himself open to who knows what by taking her so recklessly. She could have had anything, any sort of disease or affliction that he could have caught. She didn’t look like she had anything of the sort but wasn’t the hidden danger of a woman like Lucilla? At least he now knew there was no danger for him since he had been her first. Would it add a little complication to the relationship (if it could be called that)? Hard to say. She was bound to know what (could) have been expected of her eventually. If Kylo Ren hadn’t infuriated him, it might have been might have been months before he opened that avenue of exploration. If he opened it at all. And just as things were going so well. Bleeding aside, it actually hadn’t been a bad experience. From his perspective, at least. Did he want to repeat it? Possibly. He certainly felt more at ease after it. Maybe he’d been using her all wrong or just hadn’t discovered a deeper purpose for her. Until now. If he thought she was peaceful on the floor, it was nothing compared to the way she was currently. The General sat up in his bed and looked down upon the dark haired creature that had taken over the other side with little persuasion.

“Are you awake?” It wasn’t gentle but it wasn’t as unpleasant as his usual waking greeting. Her eyes were closed but her breathing wasn’t quite at sleeping tempo. It was more as if she was merely enjoying the rare comfort that only tonight had afforded her. There was still a dull ache in between her legs but it was starting to subside, hopefully it would be gone by morning; the bleeding had stopped some time ago. Those bright blue eyes flickered to life and her sweet, angelic features opened like a flower opened towards the sun. Confirmation that she was in fact awake.

“Yes, General.” He still had trouble with this. She was incredibly forgiving. Or was she just used to worse cruelty? On her first morning on the Finalizer, he had kicked her awake but that night, she had ever so carefully removed the boots that had left a (literal) imprint on her back that had only barely faded. Now, after decimating her on her first time; she looked at him with a devotion he knew he didn’t deserve but he would never admit to that.

“I wish to know some things. About you.” He doubted she’d lie to him.

“Anything, General.” She remained lying down and it only seemed fair that he allowed her to do so. He was the reason for her discomfort after all.
“Your accent is Coruscanti. Are you actually from Coruscant?”
“Yes, General.” That surprised him.
“Where on Coruscant?”
“The Undercity, General. Or at least that’s where I was found.” A rough, dangerous place; or so he’d heard. Where crime was rife, the poorest resided and where it was difficult to live due to the gases released from the planet’s core. She must have been quite a find; to someone in that business, she must have been a rare opportunity.

“You said something about a list.” Hux interrogated further, carefully watching the younger female’s reactions from above. “What list? What did you mean?” Lucilla had not seen the Admiral’s list. There may not have even been a physical list rather than just an oral collection of desirable qualities.
“Your father had a list of specific traits, both physical and mental, for your companion which he gave to the ones who found me.” Normally, they were not encouraged to divulge these kinds of details. But her master required the information and she would happily tell him what she knew; always the truth. “Based on the list, they selected who they thought might be suitable. We were all inspected and he chose me.” Her brilliant blue eyes traced the General’s features and found them marred with disgust, more so than usual.

“And…. What was on that list?” What did his father know about what he wanted in a companion?! Let alone compile a list of what she should look, sound and act like!
“From what they told me; he stated he wanted someone with dark hair, dark eyes though that was a compromise, small in stature, slim, appealing to the eye, medium breasts….” He hadn’t even noticed that detail but it seemed his father had kindly taken it into account for him. “He said he didn’t care what my name was as long as it was pretty. Submissive, unquestioning and capable of being on her own for long periods of time.” She had essentially described herself, aside from the eyes. Hers were blue not that he made eye contact all that often. “But most of all.... Untouched.” She had definitely been that.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty three, General.” Ten years younger than him.
“You know your age but not your second name?”
“We’re usually taken young enough not to remember the name if it is never mentioned again. It stops us looking for our families if we have any left.” So they weren’t always orphans either? The idea of it abhorred him. It was uncivilised. Taking children and turning them into slaves for money. Vast amounts of it he assumed. The General didn’t have a conscience as such but he knew a child was a child and it should be left that way. Not that he had any desire for them himself. He knew he wanted to know more but forming the questions was difficult when the answers so far had been so terrible.
“How old were you when you were found?” Or taken. But he restrained himself from adding that part.
“Six, General.” He could scarcely imagine a darling, six year old Lucilla, probably frightened and crying; found in the Undercity of Coruscant only to be sold into a lifetime of slavery. Slavery that would hurt her, demean her, maybe even kill her. Some of those girls didn’t have a very long lifespan with the malice they often endured.
“How much did he pay for you?” The necessary questions continued.
“I don’t know, General. It usually depends on how close they can match to the list.”
“But they got his list quite close?”
“Yes, General. Several thousand units but I can’t say for sure how much.” Several thousand units?! And yet, his father would have been complacent enough for him to kill her if he didn’t want her. Then again, how much was a human life worth? She answered his questions obediently and almost detached; as if they were simple facts of life and not actually horrible things that had happened to her. She really had been stripped of everything; confidence, self-worth, pride. All of it. Like as if she wasn’t allowed to be upset by these things. But if she had been an ordinary woman, not a slave or a submissive to the General; there was no doubt she’d be chased. Kind, gentle, sweet, pretty; she’d have her choice of young men who would gladly sweat to give her a good life. And here she was; a docile bitch to the General of the First Order.

“If I had known, I would have….” He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. He didn’t know what he would have done. He’d spoken before he’d thought out what he wanted to say. There was a twinge of regret when he remembered the blood and how she had been stiff but trembling when he rested against her back. She had obviously been in pain but it was clearly against her nature and training to tell him so. It appeared Lucilla knew it was as close to an apology as she was going to get, not that she expected one.
“We don’t expect to be wined and dined, General.” Lucilla answered softly and her tone surprised him; as if she was trying to comfort or reassure him. “We know not to expect it. Those who buy us are not interested in it so we should not be either.” So now he was no better than the smelly, perverse old man on Tatooine or some other backwater planet who bought himself an eighteen year old to have every night until the day he died. Which would probably be from a heart attack on top of said eighteen year old.
“I’ve heard of worse.” If her position was different, she might have shrugged. There was that flippancy again. Like nothing that had happened in her life mattered. Worse?! How? Unless she was raped, how could it be worse?! Though there was probably very little that wasn’t consensual to them, maybe she didn’t know what consent was.
“Dare I ask how it could be worse?” If he hadn’t been asking these questions of his own free will, she would not be giving this information. To do so unwarranted was to bore or annoy her master; speak only when spoken to.
“A girl I used to live with; Aleen. Her master branded her on the rear with a fire poker after her first time.”

The more she spoke, the more he realized that this was normal in some respect to her. She knew to expect it. But it seemed it had been instilled into her since she was six years old. It didn’t matter what she did or didn’t want. It was what her master wanted that mattered and to obey was to avoid punishment. How did they differentiate punishment from just unfounded barbarity? Maybe they couldn’t but anything to avoid it was worth doing.
“One more thing.” Lucilla’s periwinkle gaze directed upwards when he shifted a few inches in the bed towards her. When he pulled back the sheets, she automatically sat up and watched intrigued as he pulled up the slip dress to just past her stomach.
“I want to know…..” His almost cold finger found the crease below her stomach and above her womanhood that he had noticed in the shower. “What this is.” Lucilla’s scar was no more prominent or subtle than any of the other girls the Admiral had inspected. He had asked if there were any unmarked ones; he was told there weren’t; that it was standard. So he continued his selection regardless, figuring his son wouldn’t mind if his companion had one more scar than he did. For the first time since their strange conversation started, he saw the tiniest fragment of emotion creep into her features as her face fell slightly. If it had that effect on her, maybe he didn’t want to know but she answered before he could tell her not to. He almost wished he hadn’t asked the question.
“They took my womb.”

His hand jerked away and the blankets were replaced, perhaps to forget the interaction; forget that he had touched the now empty space where her natural incubator had been. The only thing since she arrived on Finalizer that she even came close to mourning for. Hux didn’t need to press the issue. He could figure it out for himself. Practicality. As a man of order and regimen, he could appreciate it. No womb: No need for contraception, he could only assume it was unpleasant for most men.
No menstrual cycle that might disrupt her purpose for anything from three days to a week. No hormones during that time that might make her even the tiniest bit aggressive. Spay her. Solve all those problems at once. Surely it was for the best? He couldn’t promise he wouldn’t be outraged if he came back off the bridge one night and found her more terrified than usual before choking out the words: “I’m pregnant.” He definitely wouldn’t be impressed with being grudgingly careful with her while she was swollen and fat with his unwanted bastards.
Nor would he relish walking down to the medical bay in the dead of night, following the sobs and cries of pain. The howls of effort and crumbling roars of agony probably wouldn’t faze him. He would be able to do nothing but stand there and watch emotionlessly without intent to help or comfort her. And when that was done; to just walk away as she was weakly restrained against the gurney as the infant was taken from her. The walk back to his quarters would be less troubling even if he could still hear her screaming in the medical bay; wailing and begging when she realized her child wasn’t going to be returned to her. Only to do it all again and the cycle would continue. As much as it hurt her, it was better she didn’t have one.
“Go to sleep.”
“Yes, General.”
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Pristine Condition