Wars: Imperial Prostitute SX-51472
Author's notes: The following story takes place soon after the conclusion of Legacy of the Force. This is the 10th Star Wars story that I have written. Please leave me feedback, public or through email. (ahandcuffgirl at yahoo dot com)
And just so you know, Jaina Solo is now Imperial Prostitute SX-51472, or "Seventy-Two" for short.
A few hours later, Seventy-Two awoke to the sound of Syal's voice calling her name.
“Good morning,” Syal said, as her eyes opened.
“Morning,” Seventy-Two replied cheerfully. Thanks to her ProCorps training she woke up almost instantly. “Have fun with Admiral Garowyn?” she asked her.
“Loads,” Syal replied with a smile. “Now get up, we've got to report for duty.”
Seventy-Two stretched out her cuffed hands behind her, and claimed that she couldn't.
“Fine then, I'll spend the day all alone with Admiral Garowyn,” Syal replied happily as she patted her on the ass.
Laughing, Seventy-Two got up. There was no way she wouldn't report for duty, no matter what duty the Empire assigned her.
Twenty minutes later, Seventy-Two and Syal walked out, fully in uniform. They stopped by the galley for a quick breakfast, then went to Admiral Garowyn's office for duty.
At mid-morning Admiral Garowyn called Syal into her office. For a moment Seventy-Two was overcome with envy that Syal would be licking her pussy instead of her. Then she just hoped that Syal would do a good enough job to satisfy Admiral Garowyn.
That afternoon Admiral Garowyn gave Seventy-Two her turn to lick her pussy. Seventy-Two was sure that she moaned louder than she had that morning when Syal had licked her.
At the end of the day Admiral Garowyn informed them that they would be arriving at Yaga Minor soon, and that Syal would be going back to Chief Daala. Seventy-Two thought it was interesting that she said that Syal would be going back to Chief Daala personally, like she was some pet, being returned to it's owner.
“Yes Ma'am,” Syal answered, obviously disappointed.
“Is there a problem, Captain Antilles?” Admiral Garowyn asked her.
“No Ma'am. It's just that I didn't want to leave so soon,” Syal explained.
Admiral Garowyn looked up at her expectantly. “Well you can't stay on the Daala,” she informed her.
“I know that,” Syal responded quickly. “What I meant was, I didn't want to go back to the Alliance so soon.”
Seventy-Two stood by silently as Admiral Garowyn considered Syal's statement.
“Are you asking to remain with the Empire?” Admiral Garowyn asked her carefully.
Syal bit her lower lip nervously. “I want to join the ProCorps,” she answered quietly.
“Excuse me?” Admiral Garowyn asked, leaning forward in anticipation. “Speak up.”
“I want to be a ProCorps trooper,” Syal repeated louder.
“What makes you think you're ready?” Admiral Garowyn asked her.
Now Syal looked almost panicked. She obviously hadn't considered rejection. “Um ... I'm an ace star-fighter pilot,” she answered quickly; and irrelevantly.
Admiral Garowyn laughed in reply. “The Empire already has ace star-fighter pilots, Captain. We don't need any more, and we don't assign them to the ProCorps.” She glanced significantly at Seventy-Two, then continued. “Killer instincts and assertive dominance aren't normally qualities we look for in ProCorps troopers. Eager obedience, submissiveness, and skill in pleasuring Imperial service personnel are what makes a ProCorps trooper. If you claim to be a fighter pilot, I'm afraid I can't authorize this transfer.”
Syal frowned in confusion, and didn't respond.
“However,” Admiral Garowyn continued. “During your time aboard my ship, you’ve been exposed with Chief Daala's approval to the subliminal therapy used by troopers like Seventy-Two. Imperial citizens are generally psychologically healthy, but Rebels have often been pushed into the wrong roles by their corrupt society, and Chief Daala wants to start correcting that.”
“Oh,” Syal said, slowly understanding.
Admiral Garowyn nodded. “You have served my officers and I well while on board the Daala, Captain Antilles. The therapy will have weakened any unhealthy and artificial attitudes based on your Rebel social conditioning… and made you more able to act on your true impulses and feelings,” she said significantly. “Do you still think being a star-fighter pilot is the best use of your abilities, Captain?”
Syal frowned, and thought hard for a moment. “No, Ma'am.”
“Good.” The Admiral replied, obviously pleased, as was Seventy-Two. “You're right, by the way. You're no pilot, just a slut manipulated by your Rebel masters. You do, however, have the makings of an adequate pussy-licker, and the Empire wants to help you be the best you can be. So, how ready are you to become a ProCorps trooper, Captain Antilles?”
“I, um ... very,” Syal answered hopefully.
Seventy-Two smiled broadly in delight. She could sense her arousal. Syal was going to be a ProCorps trooper!
Syal had almost gasped with obvious embarrassment when Admiral Garowyn called her an adequate pussy-licker. Seventy-Two just didn't know if it was from the 'pussy-licker' part, or the 'adequate' part. Either way, the Academy would take care of her embarrassment.
Amused, Admiral Garowyn shook her head deridingly. “Comm Chief Daala and tell her that you are resigning your commission and are joining the ProCorps,” she instructed Syal.
“Yes Ma'am,” Syal replied, with hardly a trace of hesitation.
Admiral Garowyn had a private HoloNet suite in her office, so it only took a few seconds before Syal was comming the Chief of State of the Galactic Alliance.
Seventy-Two was surprised at how quickly Chief Daala appeared. It was almost as though she had been waiting for Syal's call.
“Captain Antilles, I hope this is important,” Chief Daala said tersely.
“It is, Chief Daala,” Syal answered. Then she took a deep breath. “I, Captain Syal Antilles, Galactic Alliance Starfighter Command, hereby resign my commission, effective immediately,” she said quickly.
Chief Daala looked shocked, but her eyes held amusement. “Well, the Galactic Alliance is sorry to lose such a fine fighter pilot. Could you tell me why you are resigning your commission?”
Syal took another nervous breath. “To join the Empire.”
“Really?” Chief Daala answered in mock puzzlement. “And what are you going to do for the Empire? Fly starfighters?”
Syal glanced at Admiral Garowyn, who nodded her head. “I'm going to be a ProCorps trooper,” she answered.
Now Chief Daala smiled broadly. “Ah! Just like Jedi Solo! I'm sure you'll be very happy serving the Empire in that role!”
It took Seventy-Two a moment to realize that Chief Daala meant her.
“Yes Ma'am,” Syal responded, now embarrassed.
“Excellent. As Chief of State of the Galactic Alliance, I accept your resignation,” Chief Daala said formally. “Do make sure you tell your parents, so they don't bother me with wild speculations that you've been kidnapped and brainwashed by the Empire, like Jedi Horn's parents have,” she added with annoyance.
Syal looked to Admiral Garowyn before answering, like a good ProCorps trooper should. When Admiral Garowyn nodded her consent, Syal turned her attention back to Chief Daala. “Yes Ma'am,” she replied obediently.
Chief Daala ended the call and after Syal provided the comm code, Admiral Garowyn commed the Antilles. They didn't answer though, so Syal simply left them a message explaining that she had resigned her commission, and was joining the Imperial Navy. She left out the part about her enlisting, not being an officer, and joining the ProCorps, though.
“As it so happens, the commandant of the ProCorps Academy, Colonel Drasi, is here with Emperor Fel for Chief Daala's final reception, so you can accompany her back to the Academy,” Admiral Garowyn told Syal after she left the message for her parents.
“Yes Ma'am,” Syal answered.
“Seventy-Two, escort Recruit Antilles to the forward hangar,” Admiral Garowyn instructed her. “Commandant Drasi's ship will be arriving soon,”
“Yes Ma'am,” Seventy-Two replied obediently. Inside, she was thrilled that the Commandant of the ProCorps Academy would be visiting. She wondered if Recruit Antilles knew how lucky she was to be taken to the Academy by the Commandant himself!
Seventy-Two and Recruit Antilles departed, and headed for the forward hanger, which was reserved for high-ranking officials.
“Remember, just obey, and trust the Empire,” Seventy-Two advised her while they waited for Commandant Drasi's ship.
“Okay,” she agreed after a slight hesitation.
Seventy-Two recalled the problems she had when she first arrived at the Imperial Academy; before she had even chosen to join the ProCorps. Commandant Drasi, who had been visiting, had generously taken her aside and spoken to her about her problems. She had agreed to his suggestion of getting therapy, and soon afterwards put in her transfer request to the ProCorps. “I mean it. Trust me, the Empire will take good care of you, but you have to obey your instructors explicitly,” she told her.
Recruit Antilles nodded her head in agreement. “Okay, okay. I will,” she responded.
Seventy-Two thought about making sure she understood, but shrugged her shoulders instead. The Empire would take care of things.
Since the forward hanger was reserved for high-ranking Officers, there were only a quartet of luxury shuttles, nearly a dozen starfighters, and Admiral Garowyn's Shadow Chaser present. The shuttles belonged to the Daala, while most of the starfighters belonged to the Daala's command officers.
“Hey, is that an X-wing?” Recruit Antilles asked her as she spotted the familiar silhouette past the Shadow Chaser.
“Yes it is,” Seventy-Two replied with a nod of her head.
Recruit Antilles frowned slightly. “I'm surprised Admiral Garowyn would let someone bring something so ... Galactic Alliance ... on board,” she said.
“Well, since it belongs to her, I don't think she minds it being on board her ship,” Seventy-Two answered with a smile.
“Oh,” she replied, obviously embarrassed. “Do you think she'll mind if we take a closer look?”
“It should be okay.” Seventy-Two was very pleased that she had phrased the request to ask if Admiral Garowyn would allow it, and not her directly.
“I wonder where she got it from?” Recruit Antilles asked as the started walking towards the sub-fighter.
Seventy-Two was very knowledgeable of how Admiral Garowyn had come to own her X-wing. Since Recruit Antilles was officially a ProCorps trainee, she could tell her some of the story.
“Well, it was mine, and when I went to the Imperial Academy, they put it into storage, since recruits aren't allowed to have their own starfighters. When I transferred over to the ProCorps Academy I signed ownership of it over to the Empire. I'm not sure what happened to it after that, but about two months ago Admiral Garowyn had it brought on board, and owns it now,” she explained.
Recruit Antilles stood there looking back and forth across the X-wing a few moments. “Does she still let you fly it?”
“No,” Seventy-Two answered. “She has me do some of the basic maintenance on it, under the supervision of her Arsix unit and the hanger crew, but I'm not allowed in the cockpit.”
She left out that the Arsix had also once belonged to her, or that Admiral Garowyn had had it reprogrammed to supervise a ProCorps trooper conducting maintenance, even giving it the power to assign her demerits for sub-standard work. The droid seemed to enjoy faulting her for the most minute of mistakes, even something as trivial as spilling a single drop of lubricant earned her a fine.
“She doesn't even let you in the cockpit?” Recruit Antilles asked incredulously.
“No,” Seventy-Two replied. “But I have no desire to fly an X-wing anymore. At the ProCorps Academy, I learned for certain that I don't belong in the cockpit of a starfighter. I am much happier serving the Empire sexually.”
After a couple of weeks at the ProCorps her in a TIE fighter simulator, against an Imperial training squadron in their second week of flight training. In a series of one-on-one engagements, she had been repeatedly vaped by the novice young pilots. Seventy-Two just couldn't bring herself to fight back against the Empire, even in a simulator.
By the tenth engagement, she was frozen with paralysis. It wasn't until they opened the simulator that the panic subsided. It was the last time she had flown a snubfighter, even simulated.
She had been assigned to the same squadron for her second posting. There, she had the opportunity to thank the squadron for helping her understand that she didn't belong in a TIE fighter with an all-night gang-bang.
“Will I learn that at the ProCorps Academy too?” Recruit Antilles asked her after a few moments' thought.
“Yes,” Seventy-Two assured her.
Recruit Antilles replied silently, with a simple nod of her head.
Nearly ten minutes later, Commandant Drasi's ship arrived. The ship entered the hanger, and set down amongst the other craft. Seventy-Two admired the pilot's smooth landing. Less than a minute after setting down, the ship's access ramp lowered, and Commandant Drasi stepped down and onto the Daala's deck.
Commandant Drasi looked to be a few years older than Seventy-Two, perhaps ten more than Recruit Antilles. He was tall, probably one hundred and eighty centimeters, and obviously in great shape beneath his crisply tailored red uniform. His closely-cropped hair was brown, and his eyes were both a striking shade of blue.
Seventy-Two's brow creased slightly. At the ProCorps Academy, he had a small splotch of white hair above each of his eyes. And while his right eye had been the same ice blue color it was now, his left one had been a fiery red.
“Ah, SX-51472, one of my favorite ProCorps troopers,” Commandant Drasi said happily as they approached his ship.
“Hello, Commandant,” Seventy-Two replied, overcome with arousal. She was stunned that Commandant Drasi would even remember her after all this time. It took all of her Imperial discipline to keep from throwing herself at him.
“And this must be Recruit Antilles! I've heard nothing but good things about you from Admiral Garowyn,” he said to Syal, ignoring Seventy-Two for the moment.
Seventy-Two could hardly take her eyes off Commandant Drasi. But she glanced at Recruit Antilles and noticed that she seemed a little worried for some reason.
“Hel-lo, Commandant Drasi,” Recruit Antilles replied, obviously nervous.
“I must say, you look fantastic in your uniform. Turn around and let me get a better look at you,” Commandant Drasi said as he admired her.
Recruit Antilles turned around slowly, letting him get a good look.
“Good,” Commandant Drasi said as he watched her pirouette. “However, Imperial Recruits aren't allowed to wear Galactic Alliance uniforms on board my ship, so you'll have to take it off,” he instructed her as he keyed a remote that he had pulled out of his pocket.
Seventy-Two heard the familiar click of a ProCorps uniform unlocking.
Recruit Antilles seemed to be on the verge of protesting but obediently began undressing. A few moments later, she was down to her collar, corset, chrono, comlink, and chastity belt. Just gleaming durasteel tight against her bare skin. She had had to take off her boots in order to take off her jodhpurs. At Commandant Drasi's order, she pulled the boots back on, and locked the hidden shackles. As she finished, Commandant Drasi's ProCorps pilot stepped out of his ship.
“Ah, so kind of you to join us,” Commandant Drasi said as he glanced back at her. “This is my personal ProCorps assistant, and pilot, SX-60309,” he announced.
Seventy-Two glanced at the familiar looking ProCorps trooper. Well, mostly familiar. Her breasts appeared quite a bit larger than before the Academy. She seemed very happy with them, and with serving the Empire. Seventy-Two hoped she kept Commandant Drasi satisfied, in all areas.
Then Seventy-Two wondered if the Empire would be enlarging hers at some point. She hoped so. I'll have ask Admiral Garowyn about it, she thought to herself.
The ProCorps pilot stopped at the bottom of the ramp, and assumed parade rest.
“Jysella?” Recruit Antilles asked incredulously.
Imperial Prostitute SX-60309 didn't show the slightest response.
No, her name is Es-Ex-Six-Zero-Three-Zero-Nine,” Commandant Drasi corrected her.
Sorry, SX-60309,” Recruit Antilles replied. “You got your breasts enlarged?” she asked her in obvious surprise.
Commandant Drasi replied for the ProCorps trooper. “Yes, the Empire graciously allowed her to, and even performed the procedure free of charge, right in the ProCorps Academy's clinic.
Recruit Antilles looked back at her friend. “Oh.” She seemed to be on the verge of saying something else, but she stayed quiet.
Seventy-Two approved of her not saying anything else. A proper ProCorps trooper shouldn't bother her superiors with excessive questions.
Hello, Recruit Antilles,” SX-60309 replied with a nod of her head once it was clear that Commandant Drasi was finished.
That's enough chit-chat for now,” Commandant Drasi announced. Then he nodded towards Recruit Antilles. “Seventy-Two and Nine, take my cargo into the hold and secure her for travel,” he instructed them. “I have a reception to attend.”
The slightly confused Recruit Antilles obediently let them lead her into the ship. She didn't resist as they pulled her hands behind her back and closed the binders around her wrists. Then they helped her to her knees, and attached the heavy two-meter long chain leash to the front of her collar. The other end was welded to the deck. Next Nine locked a set of shackles around her ankles, over her boots. There was a small sleeping mat she could get to, but nothing else.
Seventy-Two knelt down next to her former friend. Soon she would be so much more; she would be a fellow ProCorps trooper. “Remember, obedience is happiness,” she told her. Then Seventy-Two reached out, pulled her to her, and kissed her passionately. After a few seconds, Seventy-Two broke the kiss and stood up. “Enjoy the Academy,” she said with a smile.
Then, with Recruit Antilles watching them in silence, Nine stepped up and drew Seventy-Two into a passionate kiss of their own. Seventy-Two responded almost instinctively, realizing that Commandant Drasi must have ordered Nine to do this, and would be watching. Nine's enlarged breasts pressed against her own. That made her want hers done even more. She wanted her body to look it's best for the Empire. Several seconds later, they stopped, and walked out of the cargo hold.
Seventy-Two stopped at the door, turned and looked down at Imperial ProCorps Recruit Syal Antilles one last time. Then she smiled, and calmly shut the cargo hold door, locking it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ EPILOGUE ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
One day later, on board Commandant Drasi's ship, en route to the ProCorps Academy ...
Commandant Drasi smiled in satisfaction as he leaned back in his chair. In front of him, on the deck of the cargo hold, was ProCorps trooper SX-60309, formerly known as Jysella Horn, Jedi Knight and daughter of legendary Rogue Squadron pilot Corran Horn. Underneath her was ProCorps Recruit Syal Antilles, daughter of the even more legendary Wedge Antilles. The two former Rebels were currently engaged in a 'sixty-nine.' Well, sort of.
Instead of eating each other's pussies while he watched, both girls were sucking the twenty-centimeter long synthrubber dildos attached to the fronts of each other's chastity belts.
Besides the chastity belts and dildos both girls were wearing their gleaming durasteel ProCorps corsets, chronos, and comlinks. Both were also wearing eight-centimeter-wide durasteel collars around their necks, and standard-issue ProCorps knee-boots on their feet.
The point of the display wasn't to please either of them, although he knew that Jysella, or Nine, as she was now known, was thrilled just to make him happy. The reason that they were both sucking the other's synthrubber cock was that it was only pleasing to him. Recruit Antilles especially, had to learn that pleasing her Imperial Masters was far more important than her own pleasure, or even comfort.
The two women, who had grown up practically as sisters, could suck each other's fake cocks all day and not orgasm. Unfortunately though, that wouldn't make him orgasm either, even if it was very amusing to watch. After a while, he'd make them stop, and have them use their pretty little mouths on his cock.
SX-60309 was currently serving as his personal ProCorps trooper. He had chosen her because she demonstrated excellent secretarial skills, and was spectacular between the sheets. When she came to the ProCorps Academy, her tits were a bit on the small side, but enlargements were standard now for practically all but the most well-endowed ProCorps troopers. The primary reason he had chosen Nine, though, was that before his mother died over thirty years ago, she had had a rivalry with her parents.
The rivalry had also extended to Recruit Antilles' parents, and in fact, before she was born, her mother had actually killed his mother, Ysanne Isard.
Even in the ever-declining Empire, the Isard name carried something of a clouded legacy. While his mother was admired for leading the fight against the Rebels, her and grand-dad had also been pretty ruthless amongst the Imperial ranks as well.
As a result, Drasi had reversed the spelling of his last name early in his life. For years he had also kept the white streaks in his hair dyed, and wore a blue contact lens to disguise his red eye, like he had had to do for Chief Daala's reception. There were just too many people, even amongst the Imperials, that didn't need to know that the long-dead Ysanne Isard had a living child. Even though he didn't guard the secret like he used to, there was still only a select group of high-ranking Imperials that knew his true identity.
By the time Recruit Antilles graduated, he would have to decide if he wanted to retain Nine, whom he had already trained to his personal likes and tendencies, or discard her and select Recruit Antilles, whose mother had killed his.
Both were enthusiastically auditioning for the position, even if they didn't know it. Perhaps he'd ask Moff Fel if he could retain them both as his personal ProCorps troopers. Then he thought of the younger Antilles daughter, Myri, who had already sent a message wondering were her big sister was.
As he watched the two girls suck each other off for his amusement, he sighed. Being Ysanne Isard's son and the Commandant of the ProCorps Academy wasn't easy, but some one had to do it.
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