Breeding Sister   Rating: NC-17
Diana DeRiggs

Many thanks to Csillag, with whom I wrote Discovering Their Past, and Children of the Arixi, both of which inspired this tale. Also thanks to PiggySmalls and Carmen for being thoughtful and prompt beta readers!

Many of the Sisters are born here, though they don't know their mothers or fathers. Some, like me, are brought here as infants or children. Others are "recruited" as adults. All of us are female.

Many of us are Force-blessed to varying degrees and are trained in the healing arts and related tasks. Those who are not touched by the Force are still very useful to this community. It is doctrine that one's ability to manipulate the Force is not a requirement to be targetted and trained. Many are chosen for this work -- by both the Force and the Arixi -- even if completely Force-blind. There are many aspects of our work that simply have nothing to do with that greater connection.

But our skills and abilty are essentially outward manifestations of our one true task -- the ability to pass on the Force to any offspring.

The Arixi mission is basically the health and the population of the Galaxy. It is known that Jedi are rare, and long ago, the Arixi took it upon themselves to ensure that those with Jedi potential are always present in our universe.

So why have I have been prepared for impregnation? I do not touch the Force as those around me do. Another Sister told me I have been chosen for my talent, my work, studies and my willingness to carry a child I will never see, hold, or come to know. And after all, genetic diversity is an asset to all. If I bear a son, the boy will be given to caring parents somewhere in the Galaxy. A girl might stay in the convent, but I will be forbidden access to any of the children.

The Jedi who is to come this day is said to be intensely strong in the Force, not just in terms of his midichlorian count. Though he is still young, he is said to be one of the most talented of Jedi. I have heard rumored that many Masters sought to have him as Padawan. I do not know if this is true, but these are the types of rumors that percolate among those to be bred. Perhaps we all fervently hope to have children so strong and so special.

Perhaps one with no Force talent such as I will still have a child with that talent if a truly strong Knight came to me. Though it's known that the Force moves genetically, it can also move randomly. Some Force-talented Sisters have had children with very low midichlorian counts, while others like me can have high-count infants. True, these situations are very rare, but I have heard it is possible. Like other genetic traits, perhaps the Force can skip generations.

I am thinking all these things as I lay on the adjustable platform, prepared like a pagan sacrifice, or perhaps a rare feast. The surface is tilted and raised so that it matches the preferred height of most males of my species. The Jedi who comes to me can adjust the repulsorlifts that control all of this. He can even remove me from the surface if he so desires. But the basic postion requires my knees to be put over elevated grips, which can be rotated to move my thighs further apart. My hips hang over the edge, for simpler, straight access. I wear a half-hood sensory deprivation device to conceal my face and keep me from seeing, hearing or smelling; my understanding is the Jedi does likewise. He is guided to me by the Force. We otherwise will copulate blind and deaf.

I have handholds by my torso as well as over my head, but I am allowed to grope and hold the man who is in me. We do not speak; the hood assures we will not hear one another. I wonder if I could recognize a man by his rhythm alone?

The Jedi arrives and enters the convent on his own, through an entrance known only to chosen Jedi. He does not encounter any of the Sisters, other than during this mating dance with the chosen Sisters.

I can feel a change in the room air and know he arrives. He is new to this; I know because he gropes a bit as he approaches me, in an exploratory manner. This excites me to know he is unfamiliar with the room and it's contents. Perhaps I am his first time in the breeding rooms of the convent. Perhaps I am his first woman. Perhaps this is deliberately selected; since I cannot manipulate the Force, his experience will be less obstructed.

He takes his time, touching me. I am grateful for his slowness; it is my first time as well. I have never felt a man's hands, and I find I enjoy the feel of his. He has callouses from lightsabre training, and a light but firm touch. He rubs my breast and finds the nipple, turning it between his fingers. I am not embarassed to cry out or moan, since he cannot hear me. But he feels my body arch in response, and he grips my whole breast with his big hand, his strong fingers.

I feel a wetness on my nipple and realize he has put his mouth to it. I savor his ministrations, knowing this is as close to feeling an infant at my breast as I will ever know. It is a pity -- it feels so nice, even when he bites me!

His other hand rubs down my belly and I start to push my hips toward him, wanting him to feel me lower down ... One of the Breeding Sisters told me that many of the Jedi prefer their women hairless there, so I asked her to help me denude. She is right, I think. This Jedi seems to be surprised at my complete nakeness, but I can feel he is appreciative. His fingers explore me, driven by our desires. I am surprised to feel his mouth leave my nipple, then reappear over my sex.

He starts by tasting me with the tip of his tongue, but soon he is pushing his face into me, like a passionate kiss. I have felt this before. As part of the preparation, the Breeding Sisters perform sex acts together, so that we may know how to bring the Jedi to pleasure, so that he may breed with as many Sisters as possible.

I am at the peak of my fertility; I am sure to conceive a child, as long as he is in me. I am excited at the prospect, but right now, he's making me forget my mission. Right now, I'm feeling his fingers in my orifice, his tongue and lips working over my clitoris.

I can feel his fingers slick with my natural lubrication and I feel him pressing firmly against my anus; when he pushes in the tip inside, I feel my orgasm washing over me, running within my entire body, starting at my clitoris and nipples. I can't help myself, I hold his head against me, afraid he'll grow tired and stop. He can't stop now!

My body convulses as my brain explodes. I feel him pressing harder against me. Scratchy and coarse, I suddenly realize now that he has a beard!

He is already naked and I can feel him standing, not taking his hands off my body. He gropes my legs, familiarizing himself with my position, feels my legs fully open. I know he can feel the heat of my orgasm still emanating from deep within me. Despite the elevated temperature, I can feel his organ pulsing with energy as it approaches me.

The organ pushes into my opening, and I savor the feeling of being slowly spread. He keeps pushing till he is completely embedded in me, then he stops. I could feel the Jedi was concentrating on the grip of my walls all around him; it was completely new to him. I'm holding him, like a second mouth. Feeling his strokes, I realize he is adjusting the platform I lie on; he must be very tall.

Though it was my first time, I had been prepared and my maidenhead had been removed about a month ago, when another Sister showed me what would be expected. The Order did not want to risk my not being impregnated because of anxiety and stress, so I had been trained in all the physical acts that might occur. Even so, this feeling with a real male was unlike the prosthetics I'd used before. I am panting as I squirm around his impalement, and to my joy, I could feel my movements elevating his blood, too.

He pulls out slowly, slowly ... I savor the movement, yet fear he'll pull out completely and break the magical spell I feel bound by. But he pushes in again and the room flexes with my vaginal walls; tingling jolts race to the tips of my body. I can't help it, my toes curled reflexively and my fingers grip into his strong shoulders, and I howl! I am on the very edge of orgasm with every stroke, as he goes in faster and faster. The rhythm he maintains teases me to the brink, then he abruptly pulls me back, over and over.

His strokes get shorter and harder and faster. I feel his body dampen with hot perspiration, he leans into my chest and I can feel him slithering over my skin, slick and warm. I react hard, tightening my walls over him, trying to grab his penis as it pulls out, giving him more resistance as he pushes back in. I feel his rhythm grow jagged, his chest heaving hard. I feel his mouth on the base of my neck, biting, chewing as he pushes deeper and deeper into me.

I pull my knees further back, trying to feel more of him in me. The pain is stimulating me, and the climb to the big one is churning in me. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him to me harder. He is struggling to pull out so he can press in, but I am delirious with the pleasures of sex, and he is trapped in my embrace.

For women, orgasm is a contraction of muscles, and a woman has to be trained to not squash the man too violently, though some men like that, I think. He can tell I am climbing up the levels of orgasm, like climbing a ladder, then I hover over the top before the violent, crashing ascent that is orgasm. Pressing my thighs apart, he put his thumb on my clitoris; within a moment, I launch over the top!

As my mind and body drift in a freefall of lust and enjoyment, I feel him press hard into me and arch his back. He whole body howls out as his seman jets into me. He has been trained too, I can tell! He keeps his thumb on my clitoris, forcing me to orgasm again; I can feel my womb sucking in the fertilizing fluid. My mind crashes against the sexual release and I'm exploding, over and over.

* * * * *

I woke up chilly and rather sore all over, inside and out. Even though I had been prepared, these are muscles that were not used that frequently. I concentrated as I was taught, so that the Force could heal me, remembering that I had not meditated after feeling his orgasm deep in my center. I don't know for how long I had been asleep, but I meditated anyway, hoping that his sperm found my ovum successfully, to conceive a child strong in the Force.

We are ordered to stay in the breeding cells, prone, so that the semen can stay in us for as long as possible. For though impregnation is laughably easy for those who don't want it, it's never a sure or certain thing. A Sister is given six attempts; if she is not pregnant within this window of opportunity, she is quietly removed from the program. So I meditated; though I do not have the proper midichlorian counts, I -- like every living thing -- could feel the Force at the appropriate times.

It was during my meditation that I sensed someone else in the room. I had been fingering my vulva, reveling in the feeling, the wetness and the soreness. The other hand was pulling lightly on my erect nipple. It was a very special feeling and I was able to meditate as I stimulated my organ. Though I had no reason to be embarassed, I removed my hand quickly and closed my legs. But strong, warm hands prevented me, pressing over my hands, keeping them in place.

The hands over mine used my own hands like puppets, moving my fingers under his to force stronger, more intense feelings to build in me. As I built to another climax, I wondered if the Jedi had returned to me?

He had! As my orgasm hit its peak, he pushed his hardness into me and pressed his mouth over mine, wrestling my tongue away with his, as I screamed in ecstasy! I convulsed against him, my teeth dragging against his tongue, my own tongue mimicking his thrusting in my mouth, matching the action down below.

I felt his hands against my head, pressing together as he pumped me faster, galloping toward his own orgasm. Perhaps he felt I had not been impregnated and he was giving me a second chance? I concentrated, opening a path for his sperm to invade me and find the ripened ovum hidden in my many folds and layers. I put my hands on my breasts, pushing me to a different orgasm.

Before I could get there, I was blinking at the dim light. Why was it that suddenly I could see? Had I passed out again? Was I hallucinating? Had they come to get me? I searched with my eyes for the Sister who had come to help me. But I seemed to be so addled. My first thought was to hide my confusion; I didn't want the Order to think I was unworthy of this job.

But no matter how often I blinked, I only saw a bearded face and intense, piercing eyes. He smiled at me, with two rows of large teeth, looking menacing yet pleased. I had to crane my neck to look up at him; he was so much bigger than me. It suddenly didn't matter that I was totally exposed to him, such a contrast to his big bones and darkness. The father of my child winked, then replaced my mask, and then he left me in inner turmoil.

The systems in place for conceiving and distributing babies is by necessity complex, to prevent a mother from knowing her child or the child's father. Nontheless, it is sometimes possible to garner clues about one or the other. These things can be discovered through casual conversation, eavesdropping, general sneaking around -- the usual ways.

But I know the father of my child ...

* * * * *

I had twins. I had not been told this, but I was so huge in pregnancy, that it was ridiculous to assume that I was not carrying more than one child. I know I gave birth to one girl and one boy. Normally, this fact was concealed from the mother, but I had become good at gathering such information.

Ever since I had seen the face of the Jedi who had impregnated me, I burned to know more about him. In many ways, it would have been easier to not know; a little bit of information makes a person hunger for more. Of course, I have had to be careful; if anyone knew, my children would have been aborted and I would have been rendered unable to have more.

The pregnant Sisters are allowed to talk about our experience, but mostly, I listened. It is not generally known who else had experienced the same male, but since I desperately wanted to know, and I had learned to listen acutely for such information, I discovered that six or seven of us had been visited by the same Jedi. None reported being visited more than once, and the experienced Sisters didn't seem to feel he was anything special.

Perhaps it was because he was my first male, but he was special to me; I know I was special to him. He came back to be with me, and unmasked me. The masks cannot normally be undone by the Sister wearing them, and they do not slip off accidentally. He wanted me to see him; he wanted to see me. Perhaps he knew what I now suspect -- my children will be strong in the Force, and will do great things in the galaxy. As weak as my Force talent is, even I can feel this. I believe the Arixi also understood this also. They give away boys, but not normally do they give away girls. Yet both my children were adopted out.

The children were given to different parents located far, far from each other. I had spent time in the Emissary's office, helping her with her work. It is normally forbidden to have access to information about any children if you are a Breeder, but the Sisters felt with my lack of midichlorian count, that I was somehow less able to understand what they were doing. This is an arrogant attitude, but I used it as much as possible to glean information about my children.

Every Emissary has patterns for locating potential parents, and I learned the patterns of the woman responsible for placing my offspring. It seems my children would have been given to older parents in different social orders, so that the chances of them meeting would be very minimal. One child was given to private traders, who ran a cargo shipping business along shady trade routes on the Outer Rim. Though no records are kept, I've heard the name "Warka" in association with the Emissary's trip to that area. Perhaps that is the name of the company the parents operate? The other was sent to a Core World family; I later understood that his midichlorian count was higher than average, and that he had been taken to the Jedi Temple in infancy. Perhaps he and his father are working together now? It is a nice fantasy. Maybe the Jedi father is even training his son as Padawan! I imagine them together: the father tall, dark-haired, strong; the son, tall like his father, but fair-haired and blue-eyed like me.

The girl, I am frankly worried about. I have occasional visions of a child in pain. I do not feel her as I seem to feel my son. Does this mean her midichlorian count is low, like mine?

I have been allowed to breed again, and have done so successfully, but never have I experienced the same Jedi as the first time. Perhaps a woman's first time is the most memorable or intense, but perhaps not. Many Sisters tell me that the experience improves with practice and time, but I have not found it to be so. Also, I find I do not have the intense care of subsequent babies as I had with my first two. Perhaps the Sisters are right, I was not cut out to be a mother, simply a Breeder.

I am carrying my sixth pregnancy. I have never had twins again, perhaps that experience is unique to the Jedi who first came to me. But even as this child grows in me, I find myself thinking of my first daughter, and wondering why I dream she is suffering? I do not have similar dreams of my son.

When I searched for a cargo company with the name "Warka," I only found records up to a few standard years ago, when the company's registration lapsed. I believe this could mean they went out of business, or perhaps they had been sold or subject to some corporate style merger. But more troubling -- perhaps they simply disappeared?

I know the Outer Rim is dangerous. My daughter's Jedi talent, if she indeed has any, might have gone undetected, so she would not have been taken to the Temple. Perhaps she might have become an Arixi? I will look among new recruits, and see if one might have my eyes, or her father's lips ... Or perhaps something else might have happened to her? She is not dead; I believe I would feel it, if that were true. I would not be having dreams and nightmares of her if she had passed.

In my dreams, I see her with her parents, the people who care for her as if she had been birthed by them. I see the father killed in some altercation; I see it over and over, in many different ways. I see the mother clinging to her, even though the child is not comforted by the woman's embrace. They seem desperate, afraid ... then my baby is alone ...

I do not see faces ... I see only feelings. I have thought on this for years. Something horrible has happened to my daughter, and I am powerless to know what, nor can I help her. I imagine her, small like me, with her father's dark hair. I hope she has enough of the Force in her to survive.

I believe she is on an Outer Rim planet, but I would never be allowed to seek her. And if I found her, what could I do? Claim to be her mother? I am Arixi; I breed. I am not a mother.

But I am comforted by something the Force has revealed to me. My daughter, though she suffers in her life, will be successful in producing a Force-strong heir who will be important to the Galaxy. I have never had visions of this type, and perhaps it is the product of a desperate heart. I cling to this revelation, hoping she forgives me. I hope she knows of her mission, and that it will bring her comfort as she grows.

My first son will be a Jedi Knight; I know this is true in my heart. But my daughter will be the mother of another, who will be more powerful than my son. Perhaps that child will be conceived by another Jedi; or perhaps my girl will be bred by the Force itself. Like in the prophecy ... a child born of the Force will change the Galaxy ...

I must be content; I have more children to breed. But these are always my final thoughts every night, before I enter my dreams and nightmares.

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