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Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute Ch. 01

By: HandcuffGirl



Authoress'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 read and enjoy all of my stories, and vote me a five! Also, please leave me feedback, public or via email.

Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute SX-51412

Chapter 1 of 7

The woman, naked and half-asleep, shifted on the deck as she heard the hatch to the cargo bay slide open. Then she heard, and felt, the rhythm of booted footsteps on the deck.

The steady beat of the boots reached into her dreams, making her frown as she realized there was something she should be remembering—but she was still exhausted from her on-duty shift the night before. She'd been fucked virtually non-stop for the whole eight-hour session, injected with a powerful stimulant to make her last longer, come more often, and come harder.

Right now, she was too beat to think much—and she didn't really want to leave the pleasant memories of how she'd been used.

She shifted sleepily again, as she realized the footsteps had stopped. Someone was standing over her, blocking the glowpanel.

"On your feet, Private Essex!" a commanding voice ordered.

The girl shifted sleepily in response, vaguely remembering that 'Essex' was her name—or at least, the one the crew of the transport ship had made up for her, using the letters of her Imperial Serial Number, SX-51472.

Officially, she didn't actually have a name. She certainly didn't need one, and she liked it that way.

Then she felt the toecap of a boot nudge her naked body, and she became more alert, her guilt increasing alongside her awareness as she realized where she was. After going off-duty the night before, she had been chained up by Sergeant Vixer in the corner of the transport's cargo hold, and she had fallen asleep in her usual spot on the deck.

She blushed in embarrassment as she looked up guiltily at the man standing over her. She wasn't embarrassed at her nudity. She was embarrassed that she hadn't woken up immediately when called. The human male standing over her was tall and heavily muscular, with medium-tanned skin and a face that could have been carved from solid anvilstone, wearing the gray overalls of an Imperial Navy cargo-master.

SX-54172 bit her lip, and dropped her gaze, feeling embarrassed.

Beside the man was a woman in an officer's uniform, with a pretty face, and a stern expression. Her body was obviously strong and nicely curved beneath her Imperial tunic and breeches.

The female officer looked down at the slim girl on the floor with an expression even more contemptuous than the man beside her.

"On your feet, Private!" the big man growled.

SX-51472 obeyed instantly, standing up fast and assuming the parade position: feet apart, hands clasped behind her ass. As she moved, the chain that linked her durasteel collar to the cargo ring on the deck shivered.

SX-51472—Seventy-Two, for short—was naked. She had brown hair that was cut very short, and she was slim, lithe and slight of stature, but athletic. Her lean muscles had the strength and definition that came from months of intensive ProCorps workouts. On the toned abs of her lower belly, between her navel and her smooth, hairless pussy, she had a tattoo of the Imperial sigil, with her official title—Imperial Prostitute—and serial number inscribed beneath it.

The phrase Imperial Property was printed across her tight butt-cheeks, too—one word on each side of her ass.

Apart from the tattoos, the only things she wore was the heavy durasteel collar round her neck, with the chain leash fastened at the front.

"Bad girl, Essex," Vixer grinned, running his gaze up and down her curves, leering at her like he always did when they talked. "Not the best way to impress your new commanding officer." As he spoke, he gestured at the attractive-looking female officer beside him. "This is Captain Garowyn, the commandant of Zeta Garrison. Flew out specially so we could make the cargo transfer early. She's officially in charge of you as of oh-two-hundred."

Seventy-Two nodded, understanding all that she needed to. Garowyn was, in effect, her new owner. "Yes, sir."

Vixer grinned nastily in approval. "Looking forward to putting your training to good use, SX-51472?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Seventy-Two nodded, feeling herself getting wet at the mere thought of her new duties. "Very eager to serve, sir." She liked the hungry way that Vixer and Garowyn were looking at her, too. "Thank you, sir."

"I like her already," the female officer remarked, in a clipped military voice—a close imitation of a Core Worlds accent that didn't quite hide her Outer Rim origins. Her eyes kept exploring Seventy-Two's naked body as she continued. "The personnel report from ProCorps said she was good at her duties?"

"Yeah, Cap'n," Vixer answered. "She likes being fucked and treated rough."

"I'll bet she does," Garowyn answered, grinning smugly in pleasure at the thought. Then, slowly, she began to walk around Seventy-Two, inspecting her naked body. "I hear the ProCorps training has become even more. . . thorough."

In reply, Seventy-Two just stood there, proud of her training, her body, and her identity. She had been taught to accept this treatment—to obey and be admired, to be used and enjoyed however the heroic men and women of the Galactic Empire's Starfleet wanted to treat her.

In return, she gained pleasure from her sexual duties, and from the fact that her obedient service improved the morale and thus the strength of the Imperial military.

She was proud of what she was.

"She has no clothes, Sergeant," Garowyn observed mildly, slowly running one hand over Seventy-Two's naked ass.

"Lost 'em before she reported aboard, Cap'n," Vixer shrugged. "Just like the three girls before her. I filed a report with ProCorps, but. . ."

Garowyn chuckled at the obvious lie. "And the report you transmitted said she's committed lots of minor disciplinary infractions," she added, pinching Seventy-Two's breasts to get a feel for them. "But so did the corporal she's replacing, and she's proved an exemplary little slut."



"Yeah, Cap'n. Private Essex here's spent most of the trip bein' punished. I think she'll behave now."

Seventy-Two didn't answer. Vixer had thrown her things in the trash compactor when she reported aboard the transport, and the series of disciplinary charges had been fabricated so he could imprison and humiliate her for the whole length of the trip to Zeta.

But she didn't correct the NCO. She knew her place, and she enjoyed it. Also, apart from the pleasure she felt in satisfying her superiors' sexual urges, the lost equipment and demerits acted as an excuse to allow her to perform extra duties, something she always looked forward to.

She had incurred several automatic fines for the 'mistakes', and she would have to earn the debt back—with interest—by letting Captain Garowyn pimp her out during her off-duty hours.

Seventy-Two had to hide a smile of eager anticipation.

"Very good, SX-51472," Garowyn nodded, as she came to a stop directly in front or her. "They say you're a qualified fighter pilot and mechanic?"

"Yes, Captain," Seventy-Two nodded, feeling a tingle between her legs. Every girl in the corps was also a fully-trained Imperial Navy trooper. She hadn't originally trained to be a prostitute.

"You were originally assigned to the TIE Fighter Command, but before you finished basic training you applied for transfer to the Prostitution Corps?"

Seventy-Two's cunt clenched, and she couldn't quite hide the blush that rose to her cheeks at the question. "Yes, Captain. Psychological assessments and corrective therapy helped me realize the best way for me to serve the Empire was on my back."   

"Well, I'm delighted to have you here, SX-51472," Garowyn smirked. She put one hand to Seventy-Two's shoulder, and gripped her firmly. "Even if you obviously need more training to get up and on your feet after a sleep shift."

As Seventy-Two blushed in shame, she stepped back, and glanced at the cargo master. "Sergeant Vixer, time to get her through processing."

Vixer smirked again, walked over to the naked Imperial Prostitute, and reached up, unfastening the chain from her collar, and replacing it with a short leash. "Yes, ma'am. C'mon, Essex."

"Yes sir," Seventy-Two agreed obediently as he tugged the leash. She saluted her new commanding officer, then followed the cargo-master across the familiar cargo bay that had been her home for the past five weeks, with her head held high like she'd been trained.



Garowyn fell in step behind, admiring her ass, and the way she walked. Seventy-Two liked that. She liked being appreciated for what she was, and she was pleased that her new commanding officer had the confidence to do that.

Seventy-Two followed Vixer in silence, resisting the urge to run her hand over her damp snatch. She had long gotten used to her permanently hairless pussy, and liked it like it was, smooth on the outside, often wet on the inside—but she also liked the training that meant that she couldn't touch it without permission, except when she was cleaning it after use.

It wasn't far to the area where slaves and other human cargo were processed. She had spent a lot of duty hours here, and she had to suppress a smile of remembered pleasure. She didn't need to be told to stand with her legs apart on the grille, or to lift her hands for the pair of manacles hanging from the ceiling.

Garowyn watched in silent satisfaction.

"So, guess this is your new home, slut," Vixer grinned, glancing out the viewport at something she couldn't see.

"Yes, sir," Seventy-Two answered, grinning as he closed the manacles around her slim wrists.

The main purpose of processing was to make sure she wasn't carrying any spice. Seventy-Two bit her lip in pleasure as two fingers probed her asshole, but she accepted it without question. Rebel agents trying to discredit the Empire had tricked some ProCorps troops and newly-purchased Twi'lek slaves into serving as 'spice rontos,' with pouches of ryll and gliterstim hidden in their pussies. The procedure ensured that Seventy-Two wasn't going to be taken advantage of like that.

"You done good aboard the ship, Private," Sergeant Vixer said, pinching her butt as he ran the scanners over her body. "You ever wonder about applying for a transfer outa ProCorps?"

"Thank you, sir," Seventy-Two replied. "And no, sir." She frowned at the question that Vixer had asked, as his fingers worked their way round to the folds of her pussy. Why would she want to stop doing a job she loved?

"There's a story that a lot of you sluts used to be prissy little Rebel bitches who got brainwashed and taught yer place," he grinned, toying with her clit.

Brainwashed?! Seventy-Two thought. "I don't know about any of the other prissy little Rebel bitches, but I certainly haven't been brainwashed, Sir," she said indignantly. She had nothing but disdain for most of the current 'prissy little Rebel bitches.'

Vixer laughed at that. "Just a story, I know, but all these weeks we been together, and you never told me your real name, or anything about yourself. . ."

"I have been trained to serve the Empire, sir," she answered, quiet and obedient. "I prefer to focus on my ProCorps duties, and due to the confidentiality protection of the Prostitution Corps, I am not authorized to discuss my former name and identity."

"Uh-huh?" Vixer nodded, looking at her with slight confusion. Then he stood straight, unshackled her hands, and slapped her ass. "C'mon. Just one thing left to do here."

"Yes, sir?" Seventy-Two replied, looking up at him in anticipation.

"Come 'ere, slut," he said, walking across towards the wall where the restraints were stacked, tugging her leash towards him.



She obeyed, half-hoping for a kiss or even a quick fuck—but with an officer watching, she knew that was unlikely. Instead, he produced a transmitter and ran it across the side of her collar, opening the lock and then lifting the heavy shackle away from around her neck.

Vixer gave her an apologetic look. "Cap'n Garowyn wants you naked an' her own collar on you. Besides, this belongs to the ship."

"Yes, sir," Seventy-Two nodded. She was used to the lack of clothes—she hadn't worn anything except restraints since the freighter left Bastion—but she felt properly naked now, without the shackle on her neck.

"It don't feel right without the collar, huh?" Vixer grinned, his eyes looking her up and down again.

Seventy-Two nodded, blushing. "No, sir, it doesn't." She bit her lip. "And, th-thank you, sir, for treating me the way I like."

Vixer grinned, and ruffled her hair in a gesture of genuine affection. "It's been a pleasure, Essex. Did I ever tell you you're one of the best sluts the Empire ever gave me to fuck?"

"The Empire trained me well," sir, Seventy-Two answered eagerly. "I'm proud to serve."

"That they did," Vixer agreed. "Much better than what you used to be, I'll bet."

"Thanks, sir," Seventy-Two whispered, pleased by his approval. She was forbidden from discussing her past, but she was a better person now, and she was glad that Sergeant Vixer had noticed—and appreciated.

"Now get outa here," the sergeant growled. "Cap'n Garowyn, the girl is yours."

"Thanks, Sergeant," Garowyn stepped forward, smiling in pleasure as she locked a new durasteel collar around Seventy-Two's neck, formally taking charge of her. Since the Imperial computers had her full, 3-D body scan, the collar fit perfectly. Then Captain Garowyn attached her leash to the O-ring on the front of the collar. She held the leather handle casually as she took a hand-held scanner from Vixer and entered her authorization code, confirming that she had taken charge of her new piece of human equipment.

Seventy-Two stood in parade stance behind her, patient and eager and dripping with anticipation.



Her pussy throbbed even more as Vixer ran the scanner close over her crotch, uploading Garowyn's authorization to the ident chip implanted there.

Seventy-Two's formal transfer to Zeta Garrison was now complete.

"Come on now, SX-5172," Captain Garowyn said, answering Vixer's farewell salute. "Follow me," she added—somewhat unnecessarily, since she was holding Seventy-Two's leash.



Seventy-Two fell obediently into step, just like she'd been trained.

"Now you enjoy yourself at Zeta, you hear?" Vixer called after her.

"Yes, sir," Seventy-Two agreed. She was blushing and grinning with joy as she left and marched down the corridor.

Captain Garowyn led her quickly to the freighter's airlock—the one used to dock with shuttles. Most of the transport's crew members were there, helping to move cargo across to the garrison's ship. They were all tough, handsome soldiers, who looked up and grinned as she walked up naked with Captain Garowyn.

"Would you like to say goodbye to them, SX-51472?" Garowyn inquired.

Seventy-Two nodded, gratefully eager. "Yes, Captain."

Garowyn smiled. "On you go then. Troops, show Private Essex how much you've appreciated her being on board."

The crew responded eagerly, passing Seventy-Two between them with gropes and hungry kisses. At least two of them even thrust their fingers shamelessly into her wet snatch. They knew she liked that.

She responded to it all enthusiastically. Like every ProCorps trooper being hauled as cargo to a new assignment, she'd been assigned to the crew for the duration of the voyage, and she'd worked hard to please them. The way they were treating her was a clear indication of her success.

She had done her duty by the men and women she was assigned to.

"Okay, playtime's over," Captain Garowyn said, and the crew released her. Seventy-Two fell into parade stance in front of Captain Garowyn, leash swinging between her breasts, and saw a slim, athletic blonde girl step out of the airlock. She had a bowed head, and she was hauling a repulsor sled that must have been used to move the cargo crates over to Captain Garowyn's shuttle.

She was wearing the tight breeches, high-heeled black leather boots and shiny durasteel corset of a ProCorps trooper—evidently, this was the trooper that Seventy-Two was replacing.

There was no sign of the rest of the blonde's uniform—her tunic and cap, and the rest of her regulation restraints. Instead, she had a shock-collar welded shut around her neck, and heavy binders, also welded closed, that kept her hands cuffed tight behind her back.

Then Seventy Two saw how she was hauling the repulsor cart, leashed up to it by long durasteel chains, fastened to the D-rings on the back of her corset.

Seventy-Two's pussy pulsed in excitement at the sight.

"Corporal," Garowyn said, grinning at the girl. "Come here and say goodbye to me properly." Without waiting for the blonde's response, Garowyn stepped forward, grabbing her and making out hungrily with her. The girl responded, unresisting and eager.

Seventy-Two just watched, delighted. ProCorps girls were expected to do other duties when they weren't having sex. They obviously enjoyed being used, and that translated well to the performance of humiliating menial tasks—but this was the first time she'd seen this particular duty, and she hoped it would be part of her own new assignment.

Captain Garowyn also seemed to be a pretty good kisser.

As Garowyn pushed the girl away, Seventy-Two saw the flash of green eyes on her face, three scars fanned in a vee across her forehead. The girl assumed the parade stance almost instantly, head bowed, but it was too late. Seventy-Two had recognized her.

"Private, ah. . . Essex," Garowyn smiled, "this is Corporal SX-51473, who you're relieving."

"Yes, ma'am," Seventy-Two blushed, noting that Garowyn used Seventy-Three's serial number, rather than a name—evidently, she didn't believe that Imperial Prostitutes needed names.

Seventy-Three just stood there, blonde head bowed and booted feet spread far apart. She looked well-disciplined, even better than when Seventy-Two had last seen her at their graduation, as if the last traces of her personality and free will had been erased forever.

"You two were bunkmates at the Academy, right?" Garowyn asked, looking back and forth between them.

"Yes, Captain." Seventy-Two had been trained not to add more. The girl she'd once been had known the girl who was now Seventy-Three long before they joined the Empire, but that didn't matter any more.

"Anything you want to say to her?"

"No, Captain." Seventy-Three was attractive, and had been a good fuck, but like her, she was a ProCorps trooper—they knew their place. The breaking of their emotional bonds and reformation of them to the Empire was part of what made them what they were now.

Seventy-Three let out a moan that sounded almost like despair, but which Seventy-Two knew was one of pleasure and submission.

Seventy-Two also sensed slight disappointment from the crew. She hated to see Imperial Personnel disappointed, especially with her. So she leaned in close to Seventy-Three, and kissed her.

Seventy-Three quickly reciprocated, and they shared a passionate kiss, for their audience's pleasure. Seventy-Two stepped in a little closer, pressing their tits together. She threaded her hands between Seventy-Three's cuffed arms and her durasteel corset, and pulled her in tighter.

After nearly thirty seconds of appreciative cheers, Captain Garowyn halted the display by clearing her throat.

Seventy-Two let her go and stepped away. Both returned to parade rest, and still, neither said anything to the other.


Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute Ch. 01



"Run along now, Seventy-Three," Captain Garowyn grinned, slapping her butt. "It's been great getting to know you."

The blonde, who was still catching her breath from the lengthy kiss, gave her a look of obedience and arousal. Then she turned and walked down the corridor, where the grinning crew of the transport were waiting to load her up with the last of the cargo, and to play with her in anticipation of her first proper duty shift.

Seventy-Two smiled to herself at the sight. She envied the fun that Seventy-Three would have on the slow journey back to Bastion, but if that was how every ProCorps trooper left the Zeta Garrison, she hoped she was going to enjoy this assignment.   

But she kept those thoughts to herself. She just stood at attention, naked in front of her new commanding officer. Only the moist smell of her pussy betrayed how horny she felt.

"Good, Private," Captain Garowyn said, nodding in approval. "Ready to go?"

"Yes Captain," she answered back with an eager smile.

"This way, then," Garowyn said, then turned, and led her across the airlock tube her own ship. Seventy-Two followed dutifully.

"Walk forward and place your crotch against the ID scanner," Garowyn instructed. "The Shadow Chaser is my favorite plaything, and now your duty is to please me as well, so you might as well get to know each other."

Seventy-Two obeyed, standing on tip-toes to raise her pussy to the height of the computer scanner, twitching with excitement as she felt the sensor pulses probe her snatch to scan the ID chip embedded there. She also knew that Garowyn was eyeing her butt with great pleasure as she stood behind her, while the personal shuttle's hatch opened.

She suspected that Garowyn would be the first partner to take her at the garrison. She might even put the Shadow Chaser on autopilot and fuck her on the way there.

She was surprised, however, to find the cargo area of the shuttle much smaller than she'd expected from her knowledge of the design. About two-thirds of the main hold had been converted into a small gym.

"I like to work out, and I know that ProCorps troopers are trained to work out a lot, too," Garowyn said, putting a hand on the small of Seventy-Two's back, and leading her forward to the flight-deck hatch. "Now, at the front, we have the bridge—you're still flight-rated, right?"

"My ProCorps training means I'm incapable of combat," Seventy-Two answered. "But I am a qualified ferry pilot, Captain."

"Good. You'll be doing duty as my personal pilot. That means I get you to myself more often, and you learn quicker to obey me."

"Yes, Captain."

"Now, the Shadow Chaser is special. She isn't quite like any other ship. So I probably have to train you on how to treat her right."

 Seventy-Two's pussy throbbed in helpless arousal. "Yes, Captain," she agreed quickly, bowing her head to hide the blush.

On her service record, Seventy-Two already had several hundred flight hours logged aboard this very ship, but that was from before the Academy. As shocking as it seemed now, her best friend had stolen the ship and then given it to her as a plaything; and Seventy-Two herself—or rather, the bad girl she was then—had done her very best to murder Garowyn when she came to claim her stolen property.

She felt shame, humiliation, and unending gratitude to the Empire for her training.

Seventy-Two was especially grateful that Garowyn was ignoring her past, and treating her simply as the loyal, unnamed ProCorps trooper she'd become.

That was how she was meant to be treated—how she liked it. That was why the Empire had trained her this way, rather than letting her make the mistake of becoming a TIE pilot.

Garowyn smirked. "Good. Now, astern, we have the bunk room," she said, leading Seventy-Two back through the hold and down the passage into the rear of the hull. "This one's mine, that one down there will be yours. Your uniform is waiting there. Communal shower, as you can see. Aft, we have the engine room, but you don't need to see that, do you?"

"No, Captain."

Garowyn chuckled. "Do you just agree automatically with everything I say?"

Seventy-Two frowned slightly. "I guess, Captain."

"You're a credit to your training, slut." Garowyn seemed pleased, and that made Seventy-Two happy. Garowyn tweaked her nipple, and took the leash off the front of her collar. "Time for you to show me what you can do in the gym now, slut."

"Yes, Captain."

Seventy-Two followed her back into behind the hold, where she pulled on a tight stretch leotard, and a pair of jogging shoes, all under the Captain's watchful gaze.

"Now, show me what you've got. If I leave before you're finished, complete your exercises, then wash, and get dressed, and join me on the flight deck."

"Yes, Captain," Seventy-Two grinned.

She threw herself into her usual routine. She started with a twenty-minute uphill run on the treadmill, followed by five minutes of intensive weight work, and then fifteen minutes on the exercise swoop. Then came half an hour of aerobics and ballet training.

When she had finished, she was covered with sweat, and her skin-tight leotard was as wet as her pussy after a day on duty, revealing every detail of her body from her hard, aroused nipples to the slit between her legs.

Garowyn had left while she was doing her warm-down stretches, and Seventy-Two obediently walked back through to the bunk area again on her own. Stripping off completely, she stepped into the shower, and began to wash.

As she showered, she considered the process that had made her into an Imperial ProCorps trooper. It wasn't something she thought about much, but the Captain and the Sergeant's comments had reminded her. As she leaned against the wall and used the sponge as an excuse to play a little with her clit, she relived the memories. She had once been someone else; a Jedi Knight, fighter pilot, and near to a complete breakdown after the manipulation and abuse of her life in Rebel territory. But the training she had received at the Imperial Academy had transformed her.

She was much happier now.

After just a couple weeks of training, she had applied to transfer to the Prostitution Corps. There she discovered her true nature, learning to embrace her sexuality and submissive tendencies. She quickly forgot about her stupid plan to become a TIE fighter pilot, and let the ProCorps Academy turn her into the person she should have always been. As a freshly graduated ProCorps trooper, she had still expected to be assigned to Commander Fel, the High Moff. He had been her lover before the Academy, and she had half-thought that the entire process had been designed to bring them closer together.

Instead, she had been assigned to a series of ordinary military units, to provide sexual services for common soldiers. Zeta Garrison, one of the furthest outposts of the Empire, was her third tour of duty, a year-long mission after a series of shorter assignments.

In the ProCorps Academy, she had given herself mind and body to the Empire. Her first assignment had been to a Star Destroyer, then to a small, remote TIE fighter base. Next she found herself spending long, exhausting shifts being fucked by every man in a stormtrooper legion. Through it all she had obeyed without question, just like she had been trained, and of course, she had loved every minute of it.

She knew that, after several years, the best and hardest-working ProCorps soldiers were sometimes rewarded with permanent assignments as toys for senior officers, but while she always tried to do her duty well enough to be considered, that was simply a matter of being a good Imperial.

Seventy-Two had no ambition to be chosen—and even if she was, she felt no particular desire for High Moff Fel, beyond a ProCorps trooper's loyal love for their head of state, and absolute automatic obedience to her Supreme Commander. Yes, she understood that it would be a great honor to serve High Moff Fel directly, but she loved and obeyed every member of the Imperial military now, all the way down to the newest recruit.

Turning her into an ordinary front-line prostitute had been the move that proved the complete success of her re-education. Her willing acceptance of the new orders proved that her discipline and obedience were driven by genuine loyalty to the Galactic Empire, not simply by a desire for sex with Moff Fel.

The most important thing about her new attitude was that, contrary to anything Sergeant Vixer had heard, it hadn't been imposed on her by brainwashing. It came from her own desires. She had just needed a little help from the Empire to get in touch with them.

At the ProCorps Academy, she had learned that what she really loved was serving and obeying the Empire, no matter what—not having a relationship with one man. Unless the Empire assigned her to one specific man, that was.

Or woman, she reminded herself. Her bisexuality was something else the Empire had taught her to accept, something else she loved the Empire for.

She also liked the fact that everything about a ProCorps soldier's life was so well organized. She needed no accommodation of her own. She would have a small sleeping mat that she could unroll, but she doubted she'd need it on many nights.

When she had finished washing, Seventy-Two stepped back out into the bunk area, and dried herself briskly with a towel from the rack. She liked the fact that it bore the Imperial insignia and a batch/item code on one corner, matching the sigil tattoo on her own belly.

After that, she began to get dressed. Someone had put out the specially-adapted uniform of a ProCorps soldier on the bunk.

First came the chastity belt, a thin durasteel yoke that went around her waist and crotch, with a soft plastex inner face. It locked magnetically and was one hundred percent effective in preventing access to her pussy. She was expected to wear it at all times except when someone paid to unlock it, but the shuttle crew had taken it off her, along with everything else except the heavy stun-collar they'd made her wear—not that she was really complaining about that.

She suspected things might be different in her new assignment, but she wasn't complaining about that, either.

For now, it simply felt good to have the first custom-fit item of her uniform back. It simply felt right to have the belt tight around her waist, the smooth curve pressed seamlessly against her damp pussy.

Then, she wrapped the corset of durasteel plates around her body, holding her breath in as it locked in place, ensuring she kept her stomach tight, her waist narrow, and her back parade-ground straight.

After that, she locked on the collar. In contrast to the heavy durasteel restraint she'd won aboard the transport, this one was designed to be worn under her clothes. The main part was a tall choker around her neck, relatively slim and lightweight for concealment inside the neck of her uniform, but at its base there were thicker, heavier gorget sections that sat tight around her shoulders.

Then came the cuffs around her wrists—tight, shiny and less than a centimeter thick, but surprisingly heavy. The left-hand one was inscribed with a chrono window, while the right-hand had a comlink grille. Like the collar, they were standard parts of her new uniform, and to anyone who glimpsed them while she was on duty, they would just seem to be functional and attractive jewelry.

Next, she tugged on her tight jodhpurs with their flared-out hips, and the heavily-constructed uniform jacket, specially tailored for emphasizing the curves of her hips, butt, waist and breasts. The collar of the tunic was a little wide, to accommodate the durasteel shackle underneath, but it hid the choker well enough.

She buckled the leather belt. It locked magnetically and would not open again without an Imperial code. That was followed by the knee-boots with their eighteen-centimeter spiked heels. They tightened once she'd tugged them on. Concealed in the nerfhide were durasteel cuffs shackling her legs at the ankles and just below the knees. Then it was time for the short nerfhide gloves. They stopped just short of her chrono and comlink, and weren't part of her standard-issue uniform, but an addition for her new role as Captain Garowyn's personal pilot. They were probably the only thing she would wear on Zeta that wasn't bondage-gear of some sort.

Finally, she hooked the metal curves of the communications transceivers round behind her ears, slotting the speaker earphones into place. Then she began swaying to the music that drifted slowly into her thoughts, as she plugged her spectacles into place. With the transceivers tucked behind her ears, the slim, straight arms of the frame fit into holes at the front of the metal earpieces, uplinking the glasses directly to the Imperial HoloNet.

An eye-blink later, the lenses came alive with information. She had been trained to read the ultra-small type that flashed across her field of vision. Instantly, she was learning the likes and dislikes of her first several appointments at Zeta Garrison. Captain Garowyn was at the top of the list. There were also the transparent patterns that she had been trained to ignore. She knew both helped her relax and perform her duties better, so she accepted the Empire's help like a good ProCorps trooper. Seventy-Two continued to prepare for duty, swaying slightly to the music all the time.

Last, she pulled on her uniform cap, took a few second to check herself out in the mirror, then walked out. She kept her head held high, the spiked heels giving her extra height and poise. Imperial Prostitute SX-51472 was not fully complete unless she was in her uniform, and now she was completely ready to serve the Empire. . . in whatever way Zeta Garrison's troops needed her.

She was, in all but name, a slave of the Empire now, and she was much happier than she had ever been as Jaina Solo.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ End of Chapter 1 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Remember, please vote me a five, and leave me feedback, public or via email.



Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute Ch. 02



Authoress'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 read and enjoy all of my stories, and vote me a five! Also, please leave me feedback, public or via email.

Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute SX-51412

Chapter 2 of 8

Three minutes later, she was standing at parade rest in the entryway to the flight-deck. "Imperial ProCorps trooper SX-51472, reporting as ordered, Ma'am," she barked out when Captain Garowyn glanced her way.

"You may enter," Captain Garowyn said with an appreciative nod.

"Thank you Ma'am," Seventy-Two replied as she stepped into the flight-deck. While the freighter's crew had kept her barefoot, she had missed the familiar sound of her heels clicking on the deck as she walked.

On Captain Garowyn's order, Seventy-Two took the pilot's seat. She found the course to Zeta garrison was already programmed in. Still, as a trained pilot, she did a quick double-check, to make sure the numbers for the hyperspace jump looked good. Then she pulled back the lever, and the stars blurred into lines. She couldn't help the little bit of nervousness that she always got going to a new duty assignment.

Once the ship had made the jump into hyperspace safely, Captain Garowyn took her to the hold, and made good use of the ProCorps trooper's tongue, as well as her pussy with a strap-on.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Several days later. . .

"You are in excellent health, trooper," the Doctor told her as he conducted her monthly exam.

"Thank you Sir," Seventy-Two responded with a satisfied smile.

Seventy-two was positive he would fuck her after her exam. Sure, most of the other Imperial Doctors had, but she was sure this time.

The first thing the nurse had done was instruct Seventy-Two to strip naked, which she had done as best she could. Now she was only wearing her collar and chastity belt, neither of which she could remove. When the doctor came in, he took a few seconds to admire her nearly naked body before starting. His hands roamed quite a bit during the exam as well.

From her past monthly physical exams, Seventy-Two knew there was more to come.

The doctor had her stand with her legs spread apart, and he removed her chastity belt. The air of the exam room on her hairless crotch felt almost cool enough to make her shiver.

"Mount up," the Doctor instructed her with a smirk as he set her chastity belt on another table.

Seventy-Two climbed up onto the gynecological exam table, putting her feet into the shiny cold durasteel stirrups. Her ass was left hanging over the edge of the table buy several centimeters. From her previous monthly exams, she knew that this was perfect for fucking her.

"Start strapping yourself in while I collect a few things," the Doctor told her as he walked out of the room.

"Yes Sir," Seventy-Two replied cheerfully, as she buckled the nerfhide straps over her ankles.

There was another strap that went just above each of her knees, keeping her lower legs tightly in the stirrups. Then she buckled the strap over her hips. The next part was a little tricky. She had to reach over and buckle the thick nerfhide wrist strap that was attached to the side of the table around her wrist. That made securing the strap over her shoulders and upper arms harder, but she managed.

From previous exams she knew that buckling the last strap around her free hand was impossible. So while she waited for the doctor to return, Seventy-Two tested the strength of her bonds.

"All done?" the doctor asked as he came back into the exam room.

"Not quite," she replied cheerfully, waving her free hand at him.

"No problem," the doctor said, chuckling as he wrapped the nerfhide strap around her wrist, securing both of her hands a few decimeters from her sides, safely out of the way.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Five eggs, Seventy-Two thought happily as the doctor sealed the last one in its container. Soon after she had accepted her posting in the Prostitution Corps, the Empire had started her on hormone therapy to increase her egg production. Of course, a ProCorps trooper couldn't be pregnant for nine months. So, every month they extracted her eggs, fertilized them and implanted them in the wombs of Imperial women. Seventy-Two wondered what an Imperial Knight was, but she still felt a swell of pride in the knowledge that she was serving the Empire by providing her eggs for the project.

"All done," the Doctor said with a professional smile as he laid a hand on Seventy-Two's trapped thigh. "At least with the exam," he then added with a leer, as his hand drifted down to her glistening hairless pussy.

Seventy-Two moaned the Doctor pushed his fat cock between her lips. This was what she was meant to do. Although pleasing her partner always made her happy, for some reason she preferred being restrained during sex now. She arched her back, straining against the straps as he fucked her.

Nearly ten minutes later, Seventy-Two felt him tense. She matched his orgasm with her own. For some reason, that seemed to happen quite often now, except when she was entertaining multiple partners.

"That was frakkin' gonzo, baby," the doctor said as he exhaustedly lifted himself off Seventy-Two's bound form.

"You too, Doctor," Seventy-Two replied, glad to have satisfied another Imperial.

As he stumbled off, most likely to wash up, Seventy-Two wondered how long he was going to leave her here like this. Not that she wouldn't have minded—the nerfhide cuffs were very comfortable—but Captain Garowyn was expecting her.

A couple of minutes later, the nurse came back into the exam room.

"Hey, can you let me up, please Ma'am?" Seventy-Two asked her meekly.

The nurse walked over to the exam table, a carefully neutral look in her eye. Then she reached out, and pinched Seventy-Two's nipple.

"Not until you pay me for my part in your exam," she said as she began unfastening her white uniform pants.

Once the nurse had stripped off her boots, pants, and panties, she climbed up and straddled the restrained patient's head.

"And I'm gonna keep you here until your do a proper job of it," she said, looking Seventy-Two in the eye intently.

"Yes Ma'am," she replied sincerely, vowing to do the job right the first time. Her regular duty assignment was Captain Garowyn's secretary and personal assistant. If she were late for duty, it would give Captain Garowyn another reason to punish her.

Luckily for Seventy-Two, watching the doctor fuck her must have gotten the nurse revved up. About five minutes later, the nurse was moaning in orgasm, and squeezing Seventy-Two's head between her thighs.

After the nurse got herself dressed again, she was happy to release Seventy-Two from her restraints. She was even nice enough to help her put her ProCorps uniform back on for duty. Seventy-Two thanked her, and dashed off to the Captain's office for duty, barely on time.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Seventy-Two couldn't help but feel amused at the young crewer's enthusiasm as he closed the door of her quarters. Well, the quarters that Captain Garowyn had assigned her to entertain Zeta garrison. The crewer looked eighteen or nineteen, fresh out of Imperial boot camp.

He was also the trooper of the week, which is why someone as low ranking as himself could get such an extended time. Even on a station as small as Zeta garrison, Seventy-Two had to serve the lower ranking troopers as quickly as possible, and only every other week.

He probably emptied his entire savings account for these three hours, Seventy-Two thought. She wondered what he planned on doing with all that time. For most Imperials, even strapping teenage men such as crewman Tommson here, one hour was more than enough to satisfy their urges.

Most of her other three hour sessions were either for older officers or non-coms, who needed a little more time to hook up their power coupling, or for elaborate role play scenarios.

Since he hadn't requested any off the costumes Seventy-Two had available to her, she didn't think he had a role play in mind.

Currently Seventy-Two was wearing her gleaming durasteel ProCorps 'B' collar. Unlike the 'A' collar meant to be worn under her uniform, this one was half a centimeter thick and five wide, with a large leash ring hanging from the front. Her chastity belt, which was locked around her waist, also had a computer chip in it with her rank and ID. Seventy-Two could not remove either of those items herself.

Seventy-Two was also wearing her gleaming durasteel wristcuffs, with the chrono on her left wrist, and comlink on her right. The only other items she was wearing were a pair of sandals with thin nerfhide straps. The entire sole of each sandal was single piece of gleaming durasteel. The platform at the front was a couple of centimeters high, and the stiletto heels were fifteen centimeters tall. The ProCorps manual called this the 'Number Two' uniform. Seventy-Two smiled patiently as his eyes traveled the length of her body.

"So, you ready to get started, or do you have something else in mind?" she asked after a few moments.

For the first time, he tore his eyes off her body and looked her in the eye. "Sure thing, babe," he said nonchalantly as he reached up to strip off his uniform top.

"Let me," Seventy-Two suggested as she walked over to him and began helping him out of his crewman's uniform. "I want my trooper of the week to be nice and relaxed while he celebrates."

With most of three hours to go, Seventy-Two took her time, kissing or licking nearly every decimeter of skin that she uncovered. By the time she got to his snug-fitting white Imperial issue underwear, his cock was durasteel hard, straining against the cheap material. As she pulled the underwear down his legs, Seventy-Two was a bit disappointed in its size.

Since crewman Tommson was about a hundred eighty-three centimeters tall, and around a hundred kilograms of muscle, she was hoping he would have a commensurately sized dick to fuck her with. Instead his was about fifteen centimeters long, and maybe twelve around as it sprung out. Or as Seventy-Two thought of it, average.

Now that crewman Tommson was naked, Seventy-Two laid back onto her bed, giving him access to her chastity belt. Smiling with anticipation, he reached into his uniform pocket and pulled out his ID chit.

Since he had already paid the Empire for a three hour reservation of Imperial ProCorps trooper SX-51472, there was no need to pay again. He did need to verify his identity, however.

That task was accomplished by him running his ID chit over the scanner built into her chastity belt. Seventy-Two heard the familiar beep of acknowledgement, and felt the chastity belt pop open.

While not possessing a large tool, Crewman Tommson proved very able and energetic in fucking Seventy-Two. His first orgasm, which she matched with her own, was quickly followed by a second. He hadn't even stopped fucking her between them, either. His second, which she had also managed to match, was followed not to long after by his third.

Afterwards, as they laid together on her bed, Seventy-Two glanced at the chrono on her left wrist. They still had a little over two hours left before her chastity belt had to be back on. Even after three rounds, it didn't take Crewman Tommson long before he was ready for a fourth.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Good morning, Ma'am," Seventy-Two said cheerfully as Captain Garowyn came in.

Seventy-Two couldn't help whistling along with the music from the transceivers in her ears as she watered the bluish plants in the reception area. She couldn't quite make out what was being flashed on the mini-holoscreens on her spectacles, though.

"Good morning," Captain Garowyn replied absently, as she opened the door to her office proper.

Seventy-Two gave her commander a few minutes to settle in, then silently followed her into her office to water the plants there. After she finished that, and did a little dusting, it was time for the Captain's morning pussy licking.

Once Captain Garowyn was satisfied, Seventy-Two spent the rest of the day performing her secretarial duties. Well, except for after lunch, when she gave Captain Garowyn her afternoon foot massage. The transceivers and spectacles continued their conditioning throughout the day.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Seventy-Two tried to remember the last time she had worn traditional Jedi robes before tonight. Although what she was wearing now was more of a perverted parody of Jedi robes. More like Jedi lingerie, if there were such a thing.

To start with she was wearing a pair of tiny white silk g-string panties, with a matching baby doll that came barely past the panties. A black silk belt was tied around her waist. Hanging from the belt was a mock lightsaber, with a purple blade, just like the one she used to carry for real. Over that was a chocolate colored silk robe, which also barely came past her crotch.

On her feet were a pair of matte-black knee high synth-hide platform boots, with seventeen centimeter high stiletto heels.

Seventy-Two shrugged off the short brown robe and let it fall to the ground. Her nipples were clearly visible through the sheer silk baby doll. Then she unhooked her lightsaber and thumbed it on. It hummed to life as she stared over the blade at her opponent. For a split-second, she almost grinned at Captain Garowyn. Or Mistress Garowyn as she liked to be called during these role plays.

The reason her lust had almost gotten the best of her was that Mistress Garowyn just looked sooooo sexy in her evil Sith outfit.

To start with she was wearing a glossy black full-body snyth-hide suit, complete with gloves. The backs of the gloves were thicker, and covered with small spikes. The body suit had thicker, armor-like, panels covering her torso, crotch, biceps, forearms, thighs, and shins.

Barefoot, Captain Garowyn was several centimeters taller than Seventy-Two. Since the heels on her boots were a few centimeters shorter than Seventy-Two's, the two were nearly the same height. Mistress Garowyn's heels were also chunky, and a lot easier to fight in.

In spite of their similar heights, though, there was no mistaking who was the more imposing figure.

Mistress Garowyn was also wearing a matching half-mask that covered her head and the top half of her face, with large eye-holes of course. A thick black spiked collar was around her neck. On her left hip was a pair of stun-cuffs. She held her own red-bladed mock lightsaber in her right hand.

The two lightsabers were actually modified practice lightsabers. At least that's what Mistress Garowyn had told Seventy-Two when she first showed them to her a few days before. They were designed to sting, and would probably leave welts, but wouldn't cause any permanent damage.

Seventy-Two understood the advantages that Mistress Garowyn's armored body suit gave her. It didn't matter. The point of the role play was for Mistress Garowyn to defeat and capture her, then 'torture' her for information about a secret Rebel base.

"Toss your lightsaber away and surrender, my pretty little Jedi," Mistress Garowyn suggested menacingly.

"I don't think so," Seventy-Two replied warily as she began slowly circling her foe.

The black-clad figure stood confidently in place, only turning to face the circling Jedi. "Tell me the location of the Rebel base, and I might go easy on you," she encouraged her.

The idea of her hiding the location of a secret Rebel base was so ridiculous Seventy-Two almost dropped out of character again. Instead, she yelled "Neevveerr!" dramatically and charged the evil Sith Mistress.

Captain Garowyn blocked the clumsy strike with ease while she spun to the side. As the scantily clad Jedi stumbled by, she reached out and slapped her ass, hard.

"OW!" Seventy-Two said as she spun around and rubbed her practically bare ass.

"Had enough?" Mistress Garowyn asked her smugly.

Seventy-Two let out a small laugh, then replied, "You'll have to spank me a lot harder than that, Mistress," as she gripped her lightsaber with both hands in mock concentration. Then she realized the ridiculousness of her statement.

"Oh, I intend to, my dear," Mistress Garowyn gloated in reply.

With a groan of annoyance, Seventy-Two charged her foe a second time, heels tapping on the floor.

This time the Jedi stopped at a comfortable striking distance and struck a series of quick blows at the evil Sith Mistress.

After deflecting the third blow, Mistress Garowyn spun around and hit her across the back of her bare thigh with her lightsaber.

Seventy-Two screamed as she staggered away, clutching her leg in pain. The blow had hurt, but not as much as she pretended. She half-squatted, protecting her stung thigh with one hand and feebly holding her lightsaber in a guard position with the other.

"Is that the best you can do, silly Jedi?" Mistress Garowyn taunted her.

With a groan of frustration, Seventy-Two launched herself at her nemesis once again.

This time Mistress Garowyn ducked the wild attack and swung her leg through Seventy-Two's ankles, sending her sprawling to the floor face down, and causing her to lose her lightsaber. Before she could react, Mistress Garowyn kicked the prone Jedi's lightsaber across the room. Then, as she dropped her knee into the middle of Seventy-Two's back, Mistress Garowyn shut down her own lightsaber and hung it on her right hip.

Seventy-Two lay prone in defeat. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that she could have easily beaten Mistress Garowyn, but just didn't want to. It wasn't just the role play either. It was right for her to be defeated by Captain Garowyn.

When Mistress Garowyn had told her about this role play scenario, she hadn't really mentioned anything past what would happen when she beat her, past her resisting as long as she could, so Seventy-Two wasn't really sure what was coming next.

Next, Mistress Garowyn retrieved the stun-cuffs from her left hip and grabbed Seventy-Two's right arm. As she snapped the cuff onto her wrist, Seventy-Two began to struggle, swinging at her with her free arm and flailing her legs wildly.

Mistress Garowyn responded by calmly twisting the stun-cuffs, and Seventy-Two's cuffed arm, up towards the middle of her back. At the same time she rotated around, so that her shin and body weight was on Seventy-Two's upper body. She let the helpless Jedi struggle vainly a few more seconds, then twisted her wrist a few centimeters higher.

"Your other arm," she stated simply to the defeated Jedi.

Seventy-Two tensed a moment, the went limp and thrust her left wrist into the open stun-cuff, eager for the pain on her arm to be over. Mistress Garowyn let out a satisfied sigh of victory, then nonchalantly reached down and snapped the cuff shut around her wrist. She held the stun-cuffs tight for a few more seconds, then released them. Only then could Seventy-Two bring her cuffed hands down to her lower back, and get some relief from the pain.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Seventy-Two couldn't believe how much fun she had last night. After her humiliating defeat at the hands of her magnificent opponent, which was pretty fun in itself, Mistress Garowyn had pulled of the armored crotch piece of her bodysuit. Then she ate her Mistress to a fantastic orgasm. Seventy-Two could feel how much she had enjoyed it.

After that Mistress Garowyn replaced the crotch piece with a double ended strap-on. Seventy-Two spent the next few hours being thoroughly restrained and fucked. She could tell that Captain Garowyn had been as turned on by the role play as she was.




Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute Ch. 02



Somewhere during the extended sex session, Mistress Garowyn had replaced the stun-cuffs with regular binders, and locked Seventy-Two's ProCorps collar back around her neck.

Now Seventy-Two was back in her ProCorps duty uniform, at her desk in Captain Garowyn's office. A message flashed up on her spectacles, informing her that Captain Garowyn was summoning her to her office. Seventy-Two glanced at her chrono, and realized that it was time for the Captain's morning pussy licking. She double checked her uniform as she walked towards the Captain's office, humming along with the music from her earpieces.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Several weeks later. . .

Seventy-Two had always like the fact that the Empire monitored and censored her communications with the outside galaxy. It showed just how much they cared about their citizens when they made the effort to keep the Rebels—which included most of her family and former friends—from influencing a single lowly ProCorps private.

Today, however, she had been summoned to the station's comm center, and informed that she had a holomessage from Jysella Horn. Just like always, the Empire had already viewed the message, and provided Seventy-Two with an appropriate response. Sometimes she didn't even see the holomessages, she would just read what the Empire told her to from a holoprompter.

While that saved her the time of actually watching the long, and often boring, holomessages, sometimes it was nice to hear from them. Smiling with anticipation, and curiosity, Seventy-Two reached out and hit the play button on the holoprojector.

Jedi Knight Jysella Horn's head appeared, twenty centimeters high.

"Hello Jaina," she said with a wave and smile. "Oops, sorry. I meant hello, Private Solo. I just wanted to let you know that I'll be attending the Imperial Academy next week. I leave tomorrow morning. Mom and Dad don't really want me to go, but Queen Tenel Ka convinced me. She said it changed her whole outlook on life."

Jysella glanced away, then continued. "She is sending all of her advisors and admirals through as well. I still think it's strange that they are all women, though." Jysella looked away again, suspiciously, then leaned forward and said, "Don't tell anyone, but I want to join the Imperial Navy like you, not just go through the training. Maybe I can get posted with you or Tahiri."

She relaxed, and leaned back. "Hey, I forgot, what's your specialty again? You seem so happy all the time now, I want to do the same thing you are in the Imperial Navy. Anyways, I got to go. I have to finish up some stuff before I leave. Bye bye!"

Following Jysella's holomessage was the typed response that the Empire had prepared for Seventy-Two. She skimmed through it, then checked to make sure her ProCorps uniform looked perfect. She couldn't embarrass the Empire by looking sloppy on the HoloNet. Then she tuned on the holorecorder, and the holoprompter.

The holoprompter was set up to display her response on a screen behind the holorecorder, so it would look like she was just speaking naturally, and not reading as she spoke. The Empire would even watch her performance before transmitting it, to make sure she looked natural and happy.

"Hello Jysella. I'm glad you're going through the Academy. I know you'll enjoy it, and I promise, it will change your life. For the better! I didn't know that Queen Tenel Ka, or Private Djo, I should say now, had gone to the Academy; thanks for letting me know. Joining the Imperial Navy is a fantastic idea for you, too."

She paused to take a breath, conscious of the corset underneath her uniform. "I'm in the ProCorps, just ask for it when you get to the training academy. I'm sure you'll get in," she said with a smile. "Thanks for the message, I know you'll love the Academy, and what it will do for you. You'll be a better, happier person afterward. Bye for now, Private Solo." Practically the only time she even thought of her old name was when she was talking with her mother or someone on the holonet.

Seventy-Two waited for the censors to approve the message. If there was problem with it, they'd let her know, and she would work with them to correct it. She suspected that they sometimes had her redo a message just so she would have to give them blowjobs for making them do extra work. Not that she minded. This time though, the 'approved and transmitted' conformation popped up. Seventy-Two closed down the holomessage program, and prepared for her appointment with Lieutenant Von'Harris.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ End of Chapter 2 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Remember, please vote me a five , and leave me feedback, public or via email.



Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute Ch. 03



Authoress'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 read and enjoy all of my stories, and vote me a five! Also, please leave me feedback, public or via email.

Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute SX-51412

Chapter 3 of 8

Several months later, on the Star Destroyer Admiral Daala . . .

Seventy-Two stood in the mirror and inspected her uniform as carefully as she could. She could feel her chastity belt and corset, invisible but definitely present. They same for her knee-high boots, locked on with hidden cuffs. The top edge of her collar was barely visible, if one looked closely, just as it should be. The sleeves of her jacket barely covered her silver comlink and chrono cuffs.

The extra attention to detail was because the Chief of State of the Galactic Alliance was making an official visit to her namesake ship. Seventy-Two was really looking forward to seeing her friend, Syal Antilles, who was accompanying Chief Daala, more, though. Once Seventy-Two looked her best, she left to assist Admiral Garowyn.

As a mere corporal, Seventy-Two didn't rate a place in Admiral Garowyn's greeting party. As the Admiral's personal assistant, however, she didn't have to stand in the several thousand strong formation that was assembled for the visiting Chief of State. Instead, Seventy-Two was standing quietly, well off to one side, observing the ceremony and watching to see if Admiral Garowyn needed her for anything.

Seventy-Two mostly watched the central of the three shuttles as they landed, assuming that was Chief Daala's, and hence her personal pilot, Syal Antilles, would be flying it. The three shuttles landed virtually simultaneously in a row.

Then the three shuttles' ramps lowered and the Imperial formation snapped to attention. First some ceremonial guards came out of the outer shuttles and lined up facing the Imperials. It was probably a bias, but Seventy-Two though that the Imperial uniforms looked much better than the Rebels'. Then she reminded herself to call them the Galactic Alliance, and not Rebels, while they were here.

Some more guards came out of the center shuttle, and lined up facing each other. Then two full-armored Mandalorians came out, followed by Chief Daala and a half-dozen advisors. Last off the shuttle was another armored Mandalorian. Seventy-Two recognized him by his armor as Boba Fett.

Chief of State Daala and Admiral Garowyn spent a few minutes reviewing and complimenting both sets of troops. The they and their entourages left the hanger together, to tour the ship itself. Seventy-Two checked her chrono, and found she had nearly an hour before the tour would end in the observation gallery, where she was expected to help serve refreshments.

Nearly ten minutes later, Seventy-Two and Syal were leaving the hanger together. Even though she was eight years older than Syal, they had always been friends, and not just because their families were close.

Syal's first question was about the spectacles and earpieces.

"The earpieces mostly play music all day, but they are also linked to my comlink so I can respond to orders quicker. And the spectacles have mini-holoscreens on the insides of the lenses. Both help me relax, and have helped me maintain the awareness and positive attitude I discovered in the Imperial Academy," she explained.

That didn't seem to completely satisfy Syal, but she didn't ask any more questions about the subject right then.

"So how do you like being the Galactic Alliance Chief of State's pilot?" Seventy-Two asked her as they walked towards her quarters.

Syal paused before replying. "It's okay, but sometimes I miss my Eta-5, or even an X-wing. Simulators just aren't the same," she said longingly.

Seventy-Two nodded politely. She couldn't even think of climbing into a snubfighter cockpit again.

"I know you're not flying fighters these days yourself, but are you getting any simulator time in?" Syal asked.

"Well, actually I'm Admiral Garowyn's personal assistant, which includes piloting her ship and shuttles. I stay pretty busy with my ProCorps duties as well," Seventy-Two replied.

The shock on Syal's face was obvious. "Personal assistant? What does that mean? And exactly do you do in the ProCorps? I couldn't find out anything about it besides the Empire's official statement that it was responsible for the well-being and morale of the Imperial Navy and Army, whatever that means. Jysella's joining it, and even she won't tell me more."

Seventy-Two knew she had to be careful about how she answered. Even though the Empire was part of the Galactic Alliance, that didn't mean there weren't some things the Rebels didn't need to know.

"Well, personal assistant basically means I do whatever she needs me to: scheduling her appointments, typing, getting her caf, running errands for her, whatever."

"Wait a minute," Syal interrupted her. "You turned down promotion to General in the starfighter corps, and left the Jedi order to be some Imperial Admiral's flunky?!"

Seventy-Two supposed that was one way to look at it. But not hers. "I left some things, yes, but the happiness and contentment I've gotten in return has more than made up for it," she said calmly and sincerely.

Syal was obviously unconvinced. "Well, okay then. Can you tell me about the ProCorps, though?"

Now Seventy-Two had to be really careful. A lot of people, Syal included, definitely wouldn't understand. "Well, I meet with Imperial personal that are feeling . . . down, and try to cheer them up."

"And you do that between getting cups of caf for the Admiral," Syal said sarcastically.

"No, my primary duties are morale-building, being Admiral Garowyn's personal assistant is extra," Seventy-Two replied, ignoring the sarcasm.

"Well, alright then," Syal said. "By the way, aren't those heels a bit high?" she added, changing the subject.

Seventy-Two glanced down at her black eighteen-centimeter-heeled boots. "The heels are part of a ProCorps trooper's uniform, and I like wearing them anyway. I wear heels pretty much all the time now; except when I'm in the gym," Seventy- Two replied.

"If that what makes you happy then, okay. I must admit though, you do look chic in your uniform," Syal added.

"Thanks," Seventy-Two replied with a smile. She took a moment to preen, raising her hands up to the level of her shoulders, which caused the sleeve of her jacket to slide down a little, and show a flash of her chrono cuff.

That resulted in Seventy-Two having to show Syal both her chrono and comlink cuffs.

"Wow, can I try them on?" Syal asked with obvious enthusiasm.

Seventy-Two didn't think her friend was ready to learn that her ProCorps uniform was locked onto her, and only Admiral Garowyn or the ship's computer could release her.

"Well, it's part of my uniform, so I can't really take it off right now, but I'll see what I can do for you later, okay?" Seventy-Two offered as the two arrived at her quarters. As she spoke, she started to push her crotch near the scanner next to her door to open it. Then she remember that they had reprogrammed her comlink so it would open the door while Syal was visiting. So she leaned back and waved her right wrist over the sensor instead.

"You'd better," Syal told her with a friendly smile, as the door closed behind them.

In the Imperial Navy, most corporals serving on a Star Destroyer slept eight to a cabin. The only perk they had was their own refresher, instead of sharing a communal one with hundreds of other troopers on their deck. In contrast, Seventy-Two had nearly as much space all to herself, as well as her own 'fresher. The reason she had so much space to herself was for her to perform her ProCorps duties. Except when higher ranking Officers wanted her to come to their quarters, of course.

The over-sized bed dominated the room. A restraining ring was discreetly located at each corner, two to each side, and one at the middle of the head and foot of the bed. There were also several more restraining rings around the room. For more elaborate bondage scenarios, there was a special room that all the ship's ProCorps troops could use.

On the wall above the bed was the circular Imperial Emblem, one meter in diameter. Just below that was her serial number in much smaller letters. Normally, Seventy-Two felt a swell of pride in herself every time she saw the beautiful Imperial Emblem. Since yesterday, though, it looked all wrong. When Admiral Garowyn decided that Syal would be staying in her quarters, Seventy-Two's official title—Imperial Prostitute—had been replaced with the words Imperial Trooper before her serial number.

Opposite the bed was a hundred and ten centimeter holomonitor on the wall. It was usually synced in with her spectacles and earpieces. Sometimes though, her clients wanted to watch something else before, during, or after fucking her, usually holoporn.

"That's very subtle," Syal said sarcastically as she gestured towards the symbol above the bed.

Seventy-Two wondered what Syal would think if she showed her the matching tattoo above her pussy. "The 'fresher's in there," she said, pointing to the appropriate door, and politely ignoring the comment. "And that's the holomonitor." She purposely didn't mention the door to her closet, as it had quite a few things in it that she didn't want Syal to see. At least not yet.

Neither did she mention that the room was monitored at all times, for her own safety. Well, that, and training other ProCorps troopers.

"Kind of bare," Syal said as she sat on the two-person pouf couch.

It was. Seventy-Two only came here to sleep, entertain clients, and use the 'fresher to clean up afterwards. The rest of the time she was at Admiral Garowyn's side. Or feet. Or between her legs.

"I know. I don't really spend a lot of time in here," she explained to Syal.

"Well, at least you've got a big holomonitor. And a big bed. I bet you have a lot of fun there," Syal said slyly.

How does she know—? Seventy-Two wondered in astonishment. Then she realized that Syal was talking about regular boyfriend fun. Not have-fucked-several-hundred-Officers fun, which was fun indeed, even if Syal, who was still a Rebel, wouldn't understand. "A little," she replied with a soft smile and a wink.

A few minutes later, the ship's computer alerted Seventy-Two that it was time to go make sure everything was ready for the reception. She made sure Syal would be okay by herself, and left for the Observation Gallery.

Seventy-Two arrived and began double checking that everything was ready. Admiral Garowyn had told her that it would be a very small gathering, and only wanted her to serve drinks and finger-food.

Nearly fifteen minutes after the reception's scheduled start, Admiral Garowyn arrived with Chief of State Daala. Seventy-Two thought it was strange that only they and Boba Fett were there. Still, that wasn't anything she should concern herself with.

Admiral Garowyn presented Seventy-Two to her guests. "And this is my personal assistant. You might have known her as Jaina Solo, but now she is Imperial Trooper SX-51472. However, you can call her Seventy-Two for short."

Seventy-Two blushed slightly as she stood at parade rest, silently listening to her Admiral introduce her.

Chief Daala took moment to stroll around her, getting a good look at her backside. "You seem to have taken to your Imperial training, Seventy-Two?" she asked as she completed the circle.

"Yes, Chief Daala," Seventy-Two replied dutifully.

"She has more than taken to the training, Chief Daala," Admiral Garowyn said. "She has enlisted in the ProCorps, and is a great little personal assistant for me," she beamed.

Seventy-Two blushed at Admiral Garowyn's praise.

"Ah, the Prostitution Corps," Chief Daala said with admiration. "An excellent place for someone such as yourself," she added with a hint of malevolence.

"Would you care to see the rest of her uniform?" Admiral Garowyn offered.

Seventy-Two was surprised by the offer, and the fact that Chief Daala knew what the ProCorps really was. As for the offer, it wasn't that she was embarrassed, it was that Chief Daala wasn't an Imperial; at least not currently. As for Chief Daala's apparent knowledge of her duties to the Empire, Seventy-Two just hoped it wouldn't cause problems for the Empire. A lot of Rebels, her parents among them, wouldn't understand.

"Of course, Admiral," Chief Daala accepted. "If Mister Fett, doesn't mind, that is?"

Seventy-Two had forgotten about the armored Mandalorian in the room. A former trainer of hers.

"Not at all," he said through his helmet speakers.

Admiral Garowyn reach into her pocket, and keyed the remote. Seventy-Two heard the 'click' and felt her belt unlock.

"Strip," Admiral Garowyn ordered her.

"Yes Ma'am," Seventy-Two replied cheerfully as she pulled off her belt.

Thanks to Seventy-Two's ProCorps training, whenever she undressed in front of others, which was often, she did so in order to maximize their arousal. Even when she was alone, she assumed that she was being monitored, and endeavored to put on a little strip-tease for the security troopers watching her. Imperial Prostitute SX-51472, formerly known as Jaina Solo, smiled seductively at Chief Daala as she stripped for her audiences' pleasure.

"Leave the cap on," Admiral Garowyn instructed her as she reached for her headgear. "You are still on duty," she explained.

Seventy-Two laid her belt neatly on the back of an unused chair. Next she stripped off her uniform jacket, revealing her gleaming durasteel corset and collar. While the bottom of the corset disappeared underneath her jodhpurs, the top formed a sort of rounded shelf for her breasts, supporting them while leaving her nipples easily visible; and vulnerable.

The collar was a dull gray durasteel, to match her uniform jacket. The heavier gorget sections hugged the contour of her neck and shoulders down to about eight centimeters below the bottom of her neck. The part that went around her neck was

about four centimeters tall.

Seventy-Two could feel Chief Daala's amusement, and arousal as she laid her jacket across the back of the chair over her belt. She couldn't feel anything from Fett, but she hadn't got much of a feel for him on Mandalore, either.

"The boots and pants," Admiral Garowyn instructed her.

Seventy-Two felt the hidden shackles at her ankles and below her knees unlock as Admiral Garowyn activated the remote again. As usual, she was starting to get aroused as she took off her uniform. The presence of Chief Daala and Fett only seemed to make it worse.

Seventy-Two pulled off the knee boots, then the tight gray jodhpurs. She laid the jodhpurs down over her jacket. Then she grabbed her boots and looked up at Admiral Garowyn, expecting to be told to put the boots back on. Admiral Garowyn gave her a single nod, and she pulled the boots back up her legs.

"The boots have hidden cuffs at her ankles and just below her knees that lock automatically," Admiral Garowyn explained to her guests as the shackles audibly snapped shut around Seventy-Two's lower legs. "The chastity belt, corset, collar, chrono and comlink cuffs also lock automatically, and can only be opened by myself or the ship's computer," she said as Seventy-Two stood back up. "Oh, and the uniform belt too," she added.

"Very nice," Chief Daala said appreciatively as she admired Seventy-Two's toned thighs. Then she noticed the ink partially hidden by the former Jedi's chastity belt. "Is that the Imperial Emblem tattooed on her?" Chief Daala asked as she looked at the parts of the tattoo not covered by the chastity belt.

"It is," Admiral Garowyn confirmed, both completely ignoring the half-naked Seventy-Two. "And that's her Imperial title and serial number below it," she added with satisfaction.

"Very Impressive!" Chief Daala replied as she leaned forward to get a better look at the tattoo peeking out from either side of the chastity belt's crotch-strap.

"Show Chief Daala your other tattoo," Admiral Garowyn suggested coyly.

Chief Daala stood back upright. "She has another tattoo?" she asked, as Seventy-Two turned away from her. Then Chief Daala looked back at Seventy-Two and let out a long whistle. "Now THAT'S dedication!" she exclaimed, when she read the words Imperial Property tattooed across the ass of the daughter of two of the Empire's most famous enemies.

After several seconds, Chief Daala asked Admiral Garowyn another question. "I've been out of the loop awhile. Do all the ProCorps troopers have these tats now?"

"I'm not sure, Chief Daala. All the ones on board the Daal—this ship—do," she replied without repeating the word Daala.

"Excellent. I'll have to congratulate Moff Fel for such a wonderful idea for the ProCorps," Chief Daala responded as she circled around Seventy-Two. Then she reached out to touch her. "May I?" she asked Admiral Garowyn politely.

"By all means," Admiral Garowyn replied with a nod.

Seventy-Two obediently stood still as Chief Daala ran her hand across her midsection, over her durasteel corset. The she felt Chief Daala reach up and lightly pinch her nipple.

"Do you enjoy your role in the Empire, my dear?" she asked as she ran her hand around the waist of Seventy-Two's chastity belt.

"Very much, Ma'am," Seventy-Two replied quickly and cheerfully.

"And do your parents know just how their little girl is serving the Empire?" she asked as she ran her fingers down the front of her chastity belt, pressing it against her wet pussy.

"No Ma'am," Seventy-Two replied, with a hint of fear in her voice from the question. She glanced at Admiral Garowyn, pleading for assistance.

"It's alright, Seventy-Two," Admiral Garowyn said soothingly. "I'm sure Chief Daala is just curious, and would never reveal an Imperial trooper's confidential duties to unauthorized personnel, even their families."

Chief Daala chuckled as she took Seventy-Two's wrist in her hand and examined her comlink cuff. "Oh, of course my dear. Whatever you say to me won't leave this room," she assured her.

"Yes Ma'am. Thank you Ma'am," Seventy-Two said with relief.

Chief Daala was clearly impressed with Seventy-Two's obedience and enthusiasm.

"Moff Fel has been telling me to send Syal to the Academy, but I didn't want to be without her, or upset her parents too much," Daala commented after awhile. "If they can turn a Jedi Knight into this, though. . ." she added thoughtfully.

"Syal, Wedge Antilles daughter?" Admiral Garowyn asked when she mentioned the name.

"Yes, why do you ask?" Chief Daala replied.

"I arranged for her to stay in Seventy-Two's quarters while you are visiting. I think after watching her holoscreen for awhile young Antilles will be more inclined towards the Imperial Academy," Admiral Garowyn said with satisfaction.

"What?" Chief Daala asked, momentarily puzzled. Then she obviously realized what Admiral Garowyn meant. "Ah, I see," she answered with her own satisfaction.

Seventy-Two knew that ProCorps troopers' holoscreens, not to mention their earpieces and spectacles, helped remove unhealthy inhibitions and put them in touch with their suppressed inner desires. She thought they would only help trained ProCorps troopers, but she wanted Syal to go to the Academy as well, so she just brushed the thought aside and pushed her chest a little farther out like she had been trained.

"Would you like her to provide some brief entertainment?" Admiral Garowyn asked Chief Daala.

"By all means," Chief Daala replied with a raised eyebrow.

Before Seventy-Two could figure out exactly what she was expected to do, she felt, and heard, the distinct click of her chastity belt unlocking.




Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute Ch. 03



"Imperial Prostitute Es-Ex-Five-One-Four-Seven-Two, masturbate for us," Admiral Garowyn instructed her.

"Yes Ma'am," Seventy-Two replied cheerfully as she pulled her chastity belt apart and pushed it down her legs. She stepped out of the chastity belt and laid it aside. Then, Seventy-Two spread her feet apart and obediently used her fingers to masturbate herself for Admiral Garowyn and her guests.

"Very submissive, I see," Chief Daala said. "And completely hairless!" She smiled as she watched Seventy-Two's well-trained fingers thrust in and out of her pussy. "Is that standard as well?"

"According to her file, the submissiveness was natural, but she was forced to repress it while she suffered under the twisted corruption of the Jedi and the New Republic," Admiral Garowyn explained. She purposely didn't mention the Galactic Alliance, since she was speaking to its current Chief of State. "Her ProCorps training simply brought out and enhanced it."

Meanwhile Seventy-Two was biting her lip in concentration as she continued to masturbate in front of them. She didn't want to embarrass Admiral Garowyn in front of such an important guest. It wasn't everyday she got to masturbate in front of a Chief of State, especially an Imperial hero such as Chief Daala! Besides, Admiral Garowyn was only telling the truth about her.

"I meant her lack of pubic hair," Chief Daala said with an amused smile.

"Oh," Admiral Garowyn replied, embarrassed at the misunderstanding. "Well actually, she came to the Empire that way. According to her medical records, she stopped growing hair below her neck around the time of the First Battle of Duro, during the Yuuzhan Vong War. The records didn't say why, but after some. . . counseling, she admitted that she thinks it is the result of her going through a decontamination procedure just before the battle," Admiral Garowyn explained.

"How interesting," Chief Daala replied as she watched the former Jedi Knight shove three fingers into her soaking pussy while pinching her clit with her other hand.

"After further counseling she told us what she recalled of the decontamination procedure. Apparently it was very. . . invasive, and humiliating for the young girl," Admiral Garowyn added. "She finally revealed that she enjoyed it quite a bit."

"Really," Chief Daala said. Then, after a few minutes thought, asked, "Could you forward me the details when you get the chance?"

Admiral Garowyn paused a moment. "I'll have to get clearance from higher-up, but I don't think it will be a problem, Chief Daala," she answered.

"Excellent," she replied, still watching the former Jedi Knight masturbate in front of her. "She won't make a mess on the floor, will she?" Chief Daala asked, concerned.

Seventy-Two grunted in concentration. She wanted to moan, but didn't want to interrupt Admiral Garowyn and Chief Daala's conversation. She stroked her fingers in and out faster, she was so close.

Admiral Garowyn smiled. "Very rarely. And when she does, she gets punished, which can be very entertaining itself." Then she thought a moment. "But allowing my subordinates to make a mess while a visiting dignitary is present would be rude." She glanced back at Seventy-Two. "Stop," she said, changing the tone of her voice into an order.

Instantly, and on the verge of orgasm, Seventy-Two pulled her fingers out and dropped her hands to her sides. Sometimes, Admiral Garowyn would let her finish if she stood there silently.

Not this time though.

"Put your chastity belt back on, wash your hands, and bring us some drinks," Admiral Garowyn ordered her dismissively.

"Yes Ma'am, thank you Ma'am," Seventy-Two responded obediently as she licked her juices off her fingers. She did that not so much because she wanted to, but because she had been trained not to get her pussy juice on the chastity belt anymore than she had too. Then she picked up her chastity belt, slid it up her legs, took a deep breath, and closed the ends together, locking it into place.

Seventy-Two washed her hands in the sink behind the small bar and retrieved the drinks and snacks from the conservator. Admiral Garowyn and Chief Daala sat down at the large table, and Fett pulled a chair into a nearby corner. Still only wearing her uniform cap, collar, corset, chastity belt, boots, chrono and comlink cuffs, Seventy-Two served the two ladies food and drinks while they, and Fett a little, talked.

Seventy-Two stayed busy by keeping their drinks refreshed, and snacks with in easy reach. After nearly an hour and a half of relaxing and chatting, Admiral Garowyn instructed Seventy-Two to get dressed again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ End of Chapter 3 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Remember, please vote me a five, and leave me feedback, public or via email.



Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute Ch. 04



Authoress'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 read and enjoy all of my stories, and vote me a five! Also, please leave me feedback, public or via email.

Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute SX-51412

Chapter 4 of 8

Twenty minutes later, Seventy-Two was in Admiral Garowyn's quarters, helping her out of her uniform. Chief Daala was in her luxury suite on board, under the Mandalorians' and her guards' protection. Seventy-Two was surprised when Admiral Garowyn told her that she could go back to her room without pleasuring her.

Five minutes later Seventy-Two was pressing her crotch against the scanner outside her room. Since Syal wasn't there, she could do what she was used to—which was using her pussy as a piece of Imperial equipment. Inside, Syal was sitting on the compact pouf-couch, watching a holomovie. She was wearing her uniform pants and undershirt. Her boots were sitting next to the bed, while her uniform top was lying on it.

"Welcome back, Jaina," Syal said, as the door closed behind Seventy-Two.

Seventy-Two stood dumbfounded for a moment. Oh yeah, she thinks I'm Jaina, Seventy-Two thought. "Having fun?" she answered. I guess I'll have to get used to being called Jaina again for awhile, she thought with regret as she pulled off her uniform cap and laid it on its shelf.

"Just relaxing," Syal replied with a wave of her hand.

"Great," Seventy-Two said as she carefully pulled off her spectacles and ear pieces, and set them on their charging points. Then she sat down next to Syal on the pouf couch.

"You're not going to change?" Syal asked her quizzically.

This was the only room on board the entire Admiral Daala, or anywhere as far as she knew, that Seventy-Two could take off her uniform on her own. Except her chastity belt, that was. Usually when Seventy-Two got off duty she immediately stripped off most of her uniform. The only problem was, she didn't think Syal was quite ready to see her corset and chastity belt.

"Na, I'm fine," she replied confidently.

Syal looked at her, obviously confused. "You're not even going to take off your jacket?" she asked.

"Not right now," Seventy-Two replied with a smile.

"Well then, let me see your chrono and comlink," Syal said with a conspiratorial smile.

"Sure," Seventy-Two replied with her own smile as she pulled her sleeve back and pressed the nearly invisible release on the edge of her chrono cuff. As Seventy-Two took off her comlink, Syal closed the chrono around her own wrist. Then she passed Syal the comlink, and she closed it around her other wrist.

Syal took a few moments to inspect the chrono and comlink, and her wrists in them. Then, strangely, she brought them together, with the comlink grill and chrono window facing out. "Do they lock together?" Syal asked earnestly.

Seventy-Two glanced at the door to her closet, where there were several sets of shackles, binders, and stun-cuffs. She already missed the feeling of durasteel around her wrists. "Those don't," she answered carefully, seeing if Syal would pick up the implication.

She didn't. The two spent a little while watching the holoscreen, and chatting. Usually at this time, Seventy-Two was busy getting ready for one of the Daala's Officers to come by for a visit, but while Syal was visiting, the ship's other ProCorps troopers were taking on her duties. With Chief of State Daala visiting, Seventy-Two hadn't made it to the gym today though.

"Hey, I got to hit the gym," Seventy-Two said nonchalantly.

"Great, can I come?" Syal asked happily.

Seventy-Two realized she had a problem. In the gym, there would be no way to hide her chastity belt. Then there was the matter of her changing, and Syal seeing her tattoos. She was pretty sure she could keep her from seeing her tats, though. Sooner or later, Syal would see more of what she wore underneath her uniform, and out of it.

"Sure, but one thing," she said seriously.

"Okay," Syal answered.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone, especially my parents, what you see while you're here."

Syal looked at her a couple of seconds. "So I guess I'm about to find out why Chief Daala specifically told me that all details of your Imperial duties are classified, and explicitly instructed me not to talk about them to anyone, especially your parents," she replied.

In the observation gallery, Chief Daala had made in clear that she was already well informed about the ProCorps. Syal's statement only confirmed that for Seventy-Two. "I don't know about all that, I just want you promise me," she responded.

"I promise," Syal said with a sincere smile.

"Okay," Seventy-Two replied as she unzipped her uniform jacket, revealing her collar and corset.

Syal's mouth fell open in amazement. "What is that?" she asked after a few staring a few seconds.

"My corset," Seventy-Two replied with an expectant smile.

"I can see that. I meant why are you wearing it underneath your uniform? Frakk, why are you wearing it at all?" Syal answered, still dumbfounded.

Because the Empire likes its prostitutes to be trim, was the first answer than came to Seventy-Two's mind. "It's part of my uniform," she replied simply.

"That is part of your uniform?" Syal asked with a wave of her hand to encompass both the corset and collar.

"Yes," Seventy-Two replied matter-of-factly.

"So you have to wear it all day?"

"Yes, and I even wear it out of uniform. I love them both," she said with a bright smile.

Now Syal frowned slightly. "Does it hurt?" she asked with concern.

Seventy-Two broke out in a grin. "Not a bit. In fact, I need to move down to a smaller size. This one is almost too big for me now."

Syal looked down at her waist. "I just thought you had lost weight."

"Well, I have, too. My Imperial diet is a bit more strict, and a lot better for me, then what I ate under the Galactic Alliance. My waist is down to almost fifty-five centimeters though," Seventy-Two said proudly.

"Wow!" Syal replied in awe. "How small are you trying to get?"

"Well, I'm not really trying to get 'small'. The ProCorps has strict appearance standards, is all," Seventy-Two explained.

Syal just shook her head. "What's up with the collar then?" she asked.

Seventy-Two reached up and pressed the release on the back of her collar. Then she pulled it off her neck and shoulders. "Part of the uniform," she replied. Then she remembered that she would want to wear her collar to the gym, and thus would need to give Syal a little more explanation.

"I have another collar I wear off duty," she added as she leaned over and pulled her favorite collar out of her night stand drawer.

This collar was five millimeters thick, and seventy tall. It was black durasteel, had a hinge at either side, and shut at the back of her neck. As she closed it around her neck, the hinges became virtually invisible.

At the front of the collar was a small D-ring, with a larger O-ring hanging from it. Along either side of the collar was Seventy-Two's official serial number, SX-51472, in easy-to-read silver lettering.

Syal watched her close the collar around her neck in stunned silence. "What's SX-51472 mean?" she finally asked.

"It's my Imperial serial number," Seventy-Two replied happily.

"Uh-uh," Syal said as she nodded her head. "And what's this for?" she asked as she reached up and flicked the leash ring.

"Decoration," Seventy-Two replied after a moments' hesitation.

"Right," Syal answered, clearly unconvinced. "What other surprises do you have for me?"

Seventy-Two had quite a few surprises for her, but she didn't think she was ready for some of them. "I do have something else to show you, but let me change into my gym outfit first," she said as she got up and walked towards her closet.

"Okay, but what about me?" Syal asked.

"They'll have something for you to wear there," Seventy-Two answered as she closed the closet door behind herself. Most of the time she liked to change at the gym, where she had a chance of showing off some. This time though, she didn't want Syal to see her tattoos, so she opted to change in her closest.

First Seventy-Two took off her boots and jodhpurs. Since the laundry chute was out in her room, she had to leave them on the closet floor for now. Then she took off the gleaming durasteel corset, and set it on its shelf.

Next Seventy-Two pulled her gym outfit out of another drawer. She pulled the skimpy black sports bra on first. Across the right breast was her serial number in small silver letters. The bottom of the bra stopped about a centimeter below her breasts.

Then she pulled the skimpy tight black hot pants on. The top of the hot pants stopped at the bottom of her chastity belt's waist piece, leaving it completely visible. The outline of the rest of the chastity belt was obvious as well.

The bottom hem came down less than a centimeter past her toned butt-cheeks. Her serial number was printed vertically down each side. The words Imperial Property, in much larger silver letters, was printed across her butt-cheeks, lined up perfectly with her tattoo underneath.

On the front of the shorts was the Imperial Emblem, also in silver, and lined up with her tattoo underneath. The words Imperial Prostitute, followed by her serial number, were underneath it.

Working out at the gym was practically the only time Seventy-Two didn't wear a corset. It was important for a ProCorps trooper to maintain maximum flexibility.

Short black socks and black gym shoes completed the outfit. The top of the socks came to the top of the shoes, and had her serial number printed along the outside of the top edge, in very small letters. All that was missing were her chrono and comlink, which Syal was still wearing.

Seventy-Two walked back out into her room and quickly but casually closed the closet door behind her, hoping that Syal wouldn't see anything too incriminating. While she was changing, Syal had put her own uniform back on. Seventy-Two wondered how long it would take Syal to notice the chastity belt.

Not very long at all, was the answer.

"What is that around your waist?" Syal asked after a quick scan of her outfit.

"My chastity belt," Seventy-Two replied with a contented smile.

Syal stared at it for several seconds. "Whatever," she finally said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Are you wearing the collar to the gym too?"

"Of course," Seventy-Two replied.

Syal shook her head again. "Whatever. Let's go."

"I need my chrono and comlink back first," Seventy-Two told her.

"Oh yeah," Syal replied absently. "I couldn't get them off."

Seventy-Two showed Syal how to take off the chrono and comlink cuffs, and put them back on her own wrists.

"I see you like your serial number," Syal commented as she noticed it on Seventy-Two's top and one side of her shorts.

"Very much," Seventy-Two replied sincerely. "Ready?" She carefully stood with her profile mostly towards Syal, hoping that she wouldn't spot her title, Imperial Prostitute, on the front of her shorts.

"You are really going to wear that collar to the gym?" Syal asked with a puzzled expression.

"I wear it practically all the time off duty," Seventy-Two explained.

"Whatever," Syal said resignedly again.

After a couple of seconds to make sure Syal didn't have any more questions, Seventy-Two turned and started to walk out of the room.

"What the frakk!" Syal said loudly, almost shouting, from behind her.

A startled Seventy-Two turned back to what was the matter now.

"Why does it say Imperial Property on the back of your shorts?" Syal asked incredulously.

Because I'm Imperial Property, and it matches my tattoo, Seventy-Two thought. But she couldn't tell Syal that. At least not yet. "Because the shorts are Imperial Property," she answered—truthfully, if misleadingly.

Syal stared at her a couple of seconds. "Your top doesn't say Imperial Property," she pointed out.

Seventy-Two admired her observational skills, even if they were annoying right now. "The Empire issued them to me," she said, again both truthfully and misleading. "I just wear them," she added. "Can we go now?"

"Yeah, yeah," Syal replied as she motioned Seventy-Two out the door. "I'm your wing."

The two women left for the gym. Even though the entire ship knew that Chief of State Daala was on board, Syal's Galactic Alliance uniform drew some looks. Seventy-Two however, drew stares and catcalls.

"Well, your outfit is definitely good for Morale," Syal said as the stepped into a turbolift.

"That's the idea," Seventy-Two responded happily. "Hopefully they'll want to. . . set up an appointment to talk about their morale," she added.

Syal nodded her head thoughtfully. "Yeah, hopefully," she agreed absently.

Finally the two arrived at the gym reserved for the ProCorps. Seventy-Two waved her comlink near the sensor for access, then escorted Syal into the changing room. There were lockers, but they didn't have doors on the front of them. ProCorps troopers didn't steal, at least from each other or the Empire, which was the same thing. Seventy-Two walked over to one of the guest lockers, and pulled out the workout gear that the Empire had provided for Syal.

"There's no way I'm wearing THAT!" Syal exclaimed almost immediately.

Seventy-Two wasn't very surprised by her reaction. The outfit was almost exactly like her own, except the sports bra, shorts, socks and shoes were gray instead of black. There were no serial numbers on it, but the words Imperial Property were printed across the back of the shorts in black letters.

"It's regulation workout gear for guests," Seventy-Two explained. She left out the part about it just being regulation for guests in the ProCorps' dedicated gym, and that she could go to another gym, and get something a lot more to her liking. After all, she thought Syal would look good in the outfit.

Syal looked towards the door, and the gym itself. "Don't you have any that don't say Imperial Property across the ass?"

"That's all that's bothering you? Don't worry about that, everyone in the gym will have it on the back of their shorts," Seventy-Two responded. That was true, since only ProCorps troopers and specially cleared guests like Syal had access to the gym.

Syal seemed to think about that for several seconds. "Fine then. But this better not get back to my parents," she said as she started taking off her own uniform.

"Who would tell them?" Seventy-Two asked rhetorically. She didn't mention that the ProCorps gym was fully monitored. Or that the live view was available for the entire ship, as a sort of advertisement for the ProCorps troopers on board. At least a couple of hundred Imperial personnel would see Syal's workout, including her outfit.

A few minutes later, they walked out of the changing room and into the gym. Several other ProCorps troopers were already there, working out strenuously. True to Seventy-Two's word, the phrase Imperial Property was prominently displayed on the back of all of the visible shorts. Seventy-Two also knew that all of them were wearing their chrono and comlink cuffs, and most of them a collar of some sort.

While a couple glanced their way, none of them even so much as nodded their heads or waved at their fellow Imperial Prostitute. Seventy-Two didn't hold it against them. When she was working out, she didn't like distractions either.

First Seventy-Two and Syal spent ten minutes stretching. Syal was surprised at how limber Seventy-Two was. For the ProCorps, though, it was only expected that she could put both legs behind her head with using her arms. Seventy-Two made sure to wink at the holocameras as she did as well.

After they were properly stretched out, they headed for the treadmills. All the equipment was computer controlled, and linked to the sensors embedded in the ProCorps troopers' crotches. However, like the sensor on her quarters, her comlink would work with these now. Seventy-Two waved her right wrist over the treadmill's sensor, and the treadmill automatically set itself for her.

Syal noticed what she had done, and asked about it.

"Oh, when I wave my comlink over the sensor, the treadmill will automatically set itself for me," Seventy-Two explained. She didn't explain how the computer controlled her workout, and would report her to Admiral Garowyn if she didn't meet her time or reps.

"That's what I figured. All of ours do that too," Syal replied.

Even from the warm-up jog, it was obvious that Seventy-Two outclassed Syal, who was in excellent shape herself.

Less than five minutes into the twenty minute run, Seventy-Two could tell that Syal had stopped trying to keep up. After the treadmill came the weight work. Seventy-Two had to scan herself at each piece of equipment. Today was upper body work. And abs. Every day was abs. Since the Empire didn't want muscular prostitutes, Seventy-Two kept the weights light, for tone instead of muscle building.

After the upper body work, they moved on to the swoops. Once again Seventy-Two left Syal eating her exhaust; at least virtually. Ten minutes later Seventy-Two's exercise swoop came to a stop, and Syal followed along. Aerobics was next.

Since ProCorps troopers worked out at all hours of the day and night, there was no large studio with twenty or more students in it. Instead there were a dozen smaller rooms, each designed for one student, but just big enough for two. One wall was covered by a two-dimensional holoscreen. As Seventy-Two and Syal entered, the holoscreen lit up, and a toned human female instructor appeared on it.

Seventy-Two waved her comlink over the sensor by the door, and the instructor immediately started Seventy-Two's personal, intense regimen.

Half-an-hour later they finished the aerobics, and the workout.

"The chastity belt and collar don't chafe or anything?" Syal asked, still catching her breath from the aerobics.

"Not at all, the chastity belt has a plastex coating on the inside, and the collar is ultra-smooth," Seventy-Two replied as they did their cool-down stretches.

"I still think it's strange to wear them working out," Syal commented.

Seventy-Two smiled back at her. "Tell you what, I've got another collar. Why don't you try it tomorrow, and see how you like it?" she suggested.

Syal looked at her collar for several seconds, deep in thought. "I'll think about it," she eventually replied.

They finished their cool-down stretching and headed for the refreshers. As Seventy-Two started to peel off her hot pants, she realized that she had a problem. If Syal didn't notice her tattoos in the changing room, then there was no way she could miss them in the gang-shower.

"Frakk," Seventy-Two said as she reached for her sports bra on the bench.

"What's wrong," Syal asked as she laid her own sports bra down.

"I forgot, it's my turn to clean the machines," Seventy-Two replied as she pulled the sports bra back on.

"They're not self-cleaning?" Syal asked, puzzled.

They were, Seventy-Two just needed an excuse not to shower or change with Syal. "I've got to um—double check the settings and stuff," she replied lamely. "It'll take about ten minutes or so, you go ahead and jump in the 'fresher," she said as she headed back towards the gym.

"Whatever," Syal replied, shaking her head in disbelief.

Seventy-Two went back into the gym, and climbed back onto the exercise swoop. Instead of waving her comlink over the sensor and letting the computer control her extra session, she just started pedaling at an easy pace.

As she was pedaling, Seventy-Two wondered what Syal would do if she knew that the gang-'fresher also had holocameras in it, and that they were also available to the entire ship. Then she wondered if Chief Daala and the other Galactic Alliance personal staying on board would discover this, and perhaps watch her in the 'fresher.




Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute Ch. 04



Ten minutes later, Seventy-Two climbed back off the swoop, and headed back towards the changing room. Syal was out of the 'fresher and putting her Galactic Alliance uniform back on.

"If you want to go ahead and head back to my room, I won't mind," Seventy-Two encouraged her as she pulled off her shoes and socks. She set the former in her locker, and tossed the later into the laundry chute.

Usually ProCorps troopers stripped down to their chastity belts and whatever hardware they were wearing in the changing room, and strutted into the 'fresher naked. Some, Seventy-Two included, even kept plastex platform shoes in their lockers just to shower in—transparisteel-clear, with fifteen-centimeter-high heels.

"Na, I'll wait. I don't have anything to do," Syal replied.

"You sure?" Seventy-Two asked hopefully as she peeled off her sports bra and tossed it into the laundry chute as well.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"Alright then," Seventy-Two said as she pulled her clean hot pants and a towel out of her locker. While she was in there, she surreptitiously pushed her clear plastex 'fresher shoes to the back of the locker, hoping that Syal wouldn't notice them.

Since she couldn't convince Syal to leave, however, Seventy-Two had to strip down in the 'fresher itself. She tossed her towel over her shoulder, and went into the 'fresher.

Seventy-Two tried to shower as quickly as she could. She didn't want any other ProCorps troopers to come in to change, and for Syal to see their tattoos. She would inevitably ask Seventy-Two if she had the Imperial Emblem tattooed over her cunt, and Imperial Property on her ass.

It wasn't that lying was a problem for her, it was just that Seventy-Two didn't want the subject to come up until she felt like Syal was ready.

Six minutes later, Seventy-Two walked back into the changing room, still patting herself dry with the towel. She didn't see any ProCorps troopers around, nor was Syal ranting about tattoos, so Seventy-Two assumed none had come in while she was in the 'fresher.

Seventy-Two tossed her towel and sweaty hot pants into the laundry chute. Then she picked up her fresh sports bra out of her locker and pulled it on, followed by her socks and gym shoes. As soon as Seventy-Two was dressed, they left the gym.

Once they arrived back in her quarters, Seventy-Two stepped back into her closet to put her corset back on. Instead of her gleaming durasteel uniform corset, she chose her second favorite, a black nerfhide one. While she was at it, she changed out of her gym shoes and into a pair of strappy black fifteen centimeter platform heels, to relax in.

"Wow, I guess you were serious about wearing that out of your uniform," Syal said when Seventy-Two came back into the room.

"My Corset? Of course I'm serious about wearing it," Seventy-Two replied with a smile.

"So what's next?" Syal asked as she took her boots off and set them against the wall. Her uniform top was already lying on the bed.

Seventy-Two wasn't used to having free time. Usually she spent every waking minute as Admiral Garowyn's personal assistant, working out, or getting fucked. And in the Imperial Academy she had been trained to only need a few hours of sleep a night, so that was quite a bit of time awake.

The two ended up watching the holoscreen and chatting awhile, then went to sleep. Syal had wanted to sleep on the pouf couch, but Seventy-Two was able to convince her to share the over-sized bed. Syal was very surprised when Seventy-Two climbed into bed wearing her collar, corset, and heels, not to mention the chastity belt and chrono and comlink. She was still wearing her short shorts as well too.

"I like wearing them to bed," Seventy-Two replied. That was true for everything except the chrono and comlink cuffs. Usually Seventy-Two slept with her wrists cuffed behind her back or to something, and a spreader bar between her legs.

"You mean you can actually sleep wearing all that?" Syal asked incredulously.

For Seventy-Two, it was hard to sleep without most of it. "Easily," she replied.

Syal slowly looked at her from head to toe, and back again. "Well, if it makes you happy," she finally conceded as she shook her head in puzzlement.

Seventy-Two had secretly hoped Syal would sleep naked, but she crawled into bed wearing her black undershirt and panties that she had been wearing underneath her uniform all day. After turning off the light, Seventy-Two followed her. Once she was safely underneath the blanket, Seventy-Two pulled off her hot pants and dropped them to the floor. Then, just like she had been told, she reached over and hit the play button on the room's audio system, starting the music that had been specially prepared for Syal's visit.

Syal looked at her with a raised eyebrow, silently questioning the music.

Seventy-Two smiled back at her. "It'll help you relax, and discover your true self, like my spectacles and earpieces do for me," she explained proudly.

"But what if I've already discovered my true self?" Syal protested weakly.

Seventy-Two just smiled politely. The Empire had shown her the truth, allowed her to discover her true self, and given her the happiness that the Rebels had always denied to Jaina Solo. "Just relax, and go to sleep," she encouraged her.

It was very soothing music. Syal opened her mouth to protest again, but no words came out. Instead, she just drifted off to sleep.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ End of Chapter 4 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Remember, please vote me a five, and leave me feedback, public or via email.



Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute Ch. 05



Authoress'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 read and enjoy all of my stories, and vote me a five! Also, please leave me feedback, public or via email.

*

A few hours later Seventy-Two woke up, well rested and horny. The music was still playing softly. Even serving just the Officers of the Admiral Daala—and she shared that duty—she was routinely fucked at least a dozen times a day. Then she noticed the faint message light on her comlink.

It was from Admiral Garowyn, instructing her that she could perform her ProCorps duties while she wasn't busy with Syal. Seventy-Two smiled at Admiral Garowyn's concern for her. She knew that she would be very horny after so long without sex.

Seventy-Two, on the other hand, was mostly concerned about the morale of the Imperial Officers who fucked her regularly, especially Admiral Garowyn.

Conscious of Syal asleep less than a meter away, Seventy-Two slipped out of her bed and walked to the 'fresher. She barely even noticed the fifteen centimeter heels on her feet.

After using the 'fresher, Seventy-Two stepped over to her computer terminal and made a reservation for an open ProCorps room for the next four hours. Then she silently shut down the terminal, and slipped into her closet to change.

Five minutes or so later, Seventy-Two stepped back into her room, wearing her durasteel corset again. Over that she was wearing the tight black PVC coat that ProCorps troopers wore to stay decent when out in public. Out of curiosity she stepped over to the enviro-controls and turned the lights on to their lowest setting, to see how Syal was doing. She was sound asleep, resting on her side, with both forearms and hands hanging off the edge of the bed.

Seventy-Two knew that she really shouldn't do it, but she just couldn't resist. She quickly walked back to her closet, and grabbed a set of binders off their hook on the left wall.

Then she stepped back into the room and smiled up at one of the holocameras while holding up the binders. Next she walked over and knelt next to Syal's wrists, which were almost the perfect distance apart, and carefully closed the binders on them.

She only had to move her right arm a few centimeters to get the binders locked shut around her sleeping friend's wrists. As Seventy-Two did this, she fantasized about Syal being a Rebel spy, and she was arresting her. She left the binders a little loose, so hopefully they wouldn't wake her up before she got back. Then Seventy-Two smiled up at the holocameras one more time, turned off the light and walked out.

Seventy-Two arrived at the ProCorps room to find Ensign Davves, one of her regulars, already there waiting on her.

"Hey baby, I was so happy when I saw that you were available," he said enthusiastically.

"And I was so glad to be available," Seventy-Two replied as she stripped off her coat and tossed it over a pouf-chair. "Especially for you, Lieutenant," she added with a wink. He, like quite a few other Officers, liked her to call them by a higher rank than they had actually earned. In fact, one Lieutenant Commander liked to be referred to as Grand Admiral.

Seventy-Two had been trained to make every Imperial feel like they were her favorite. It was part of the 'morale' component of her mission. Even the most incompetent Officer would feel great after a little time with a ProCorps trooper.

Since Ensign Davves had only paid for fifteen minutes, he quickly stripped off his own civilian clothes. Then Seventy-Two stood still while he ran his ID chit over the scanner on the front of her chastity belt.

As soon as she pulled the belt off, Ensign Davves grabbed her arm and practically dragged her to the bed. She eagerly fell onto her back and spread her legs wide. He obliged her by climbing up and plunging is already rock-hard cock in to her pussy.

The sex was nothing more that straight, hard fucking. Less than ten minutes later, Seventy-Two felt him tense, and shoot his load into her. She screamed out as she matched his orgasm with her own.

Ensign Davves rested a couple of minutes, then rolled off her and started getting dressed. Meanwhile, Seventy-Two climbed off the bed and headed to the 'fresher to clean up. When she came out a couple of minutes later, he was gone. His absence, or the fact that he hadn't even said bye didn't bother her at all. Imperial Prostitute SX-51472 was just happy to be able to serve.

Suddenly, her comlink, chrono, and most importantly, chastity belt all started beeping insistently. That meant she had sixty seconds to get the belt back on, or face a fine and punishment. Seventy-Two quickly ran over—she was quite used to towering high heels and could run surprisingly fast in them—and picked up her chastity belt off the floor. Seconds later, she had it locked into place.

Then Seventy-Two started tiding up the room, in anticipation of her next appointment. A few minutes later the door chimed with another client.

"Well Hello, Lieutenant Diirkson," she greeted him with a smile as he came in.

"Hey Ellie, we've got to hurry, I'm on my stimcaf break," he replied as he started undressing.

Three and a half hours and ten satisfied Officers later, a very happy and well-fucked Seventy-Two headed back towards her quarters. As she stepped into the turbolift she glanced at her chrono. She still had nearly two hours until she had to report for duty.

Smiling, Seventy-Two held her crotch against the scanner by her door. As it opened, she caught a glimpse of Syal sitting up on the bed, frantically pulling the covers over her body with her still-cuffed hands.

"Jaina!" Syal screamed as she clutched the blanket to her chest. Her panic was obvious. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Um, this is my room," Seventy-Two responded to the ridiculous question. "What are you doing?" she asked as she walked over to the side of the bed near Syal. The special music was still playing softly.

"Um, um . . . Hey! How did these get on me!?" she asked, still agitated. She held up her cuffed wrists to display the binders, letting the blanket fall to her waist.

Seventy-Two sat down on the edge of the bed, less than arm's length from her. Syal responded by trying to scoot away. "Oh, sorry about that. You were sleeping on your side, with your arms hanging over the edge of the bed, and I just couldn't help myself," Seventy-Two explained. "Do you want me to take them off?" she asked cautiously.

"Oh, um, no, its alright. Its just that I woke up, and there they were, and I couldn't get them off," Syal replied.

"So you like them?" Seventy-Two asked with a smile as she leaned closer to Syal. Then she caught a familiar scent. The scent of an aroused woman. When Seventy-Two had first seen her frantically trying to cover herself up, she had suspected. The scent confirmed it. Syal had been masturbating!

"Um. . . sorta," Syal replied tentatively.

Seventy-Two smiled as she pulled off her coat and tossed it on the bed. Her corset only served to display her tits, throwing Syal further off balance. "Do you want to try on some more then?" she asked. "Or do you want to borrow one of my vibes?" she asked conspiratorially.

"What? No!" Syal shouted in reply. Then she paused and leaned forward. "You mean you have more binders?" she asked as she looked down at the ones around her wrists.

Seventy-Two grinned back. "I have all sorts of things you'll like. Come on!" she exclaimed as she grabbed Syal by her binders and dragged her towards the closet.

"Jaina! Wait!" Syal shouted as she tried to keep from falling off the bed.

Seventy-Two ignored her protests, and kept pulling her towards the closet. Then she glanced back, and saw that Syal was naked from the waist down. Her pussy was glistening. "Ooh, looks like you had some fun," Seventy-Two she said as she turned on the light in the closet.

On the right side and back wall of the walk-in closet were Seventy-Two's uniforms, and a wide assortment of costumes for entertaining. Since being posted to the Daala, she was assigned exclusively to Officers, who often wanted more than just a straight fuck.

Low shelves ran underneath, with nearly two dozen pairs of shoes and boots lined up neatly on them. The left wall had waist-high drawers along most of it. The drawers were filled with all manner of clothing, lingerie, and sex-toys, not that Syal could see inside them.

Above the wall-length set of drawers were dozens of pegs and hooks, with a sampling of restraints and related bondage gear, along with some implements of discipline. Most of the restraints were custom-sized for Seventy-Two.

A set of shelves was at the end of the drawers, with other restraints, sex-toys, and odds-and-ends that Seventy-Two used in her duties. Or just for fun.

Syal stood there staring at it all, only wearing her undershirt and the binders. Seventy-Two took advantage of her distraction by pulling a thick nerfhide collar off the wall, and brought it up to her neck.

"Hey!" Syal said in mild surprise.

"Relax," Seventy-Two replied as she locked the seven-centimeter wide collar around her neck.

Then, as Syal ran her cuffed hands along the front of the collar, Seventy-Two reached up and unlocked the binder on her left wrist.

"Wait," Syal protested mildly as Seventy-Two spun her around and pulled both arms behind her back, and locked her wrists back together.

Seventy-Two stepped in close, and put her left hand on the small of Syal's back. Her right hand went under her tank top and caressed her just below her breasts. "You look sooooo sexy like this, Syal," Seventy-Two cooed into her ear.

"Jaina!" Syal said incredulously as she weakly tried to pull away.

"Call me Seventy-Two," she answered as she began kissing her neck and cheek insistently.

"Seventy-Two?" Syal asked, losing the battle and the will to tear herself away.

"Yeah, Seventy-Two," she repeated as she half-lifted, half-pushed Syal onto the drawers. Then, while still kissing her, she reached down and opened a drawer, and pulled out one of her vibrating dildos.

Since Seventy-Two wore her chastity belt virtually all the time, and was well fucked anyway, she didn't have many opportunities to use a dildo. The only reason she was even issued one was that some Officers liked to watch her use it on herself for their amusement. The same applied for most ProCorps troopers.

A few Officers, mainly Admiral Garowyn, would let her get to the verge of orgasm, then order her to stop. Lately Admiral Garowyn was fond of having her get to the verge several times before her personal assistant duties, leaving her horny and frustrated all day.

Seventy-Two pushed herself between Syal's knees, keeping her legs spread. Then she quickly turned the vibe on and thrust it into her soaking pussy.

"OOHH!!" Syal screamed out in ecstasy.

"You like that baby?" Seventy-Two asked her as she drove the dildo in and out of her pussy.

"Jaina!" Syal shouted as she squeezed her durasteel corset with her legs.

"I told you baby, call me Seventy-Two," she repeated between passionate kisses.

Now Syal eagerly kissed her back as she kept pushing the dildo in and out. Several minutes of hot lesbian action, later, Syal screamed wordlessly in orgasm.

"Oohhh Jaina," Syal said breathlessly, as she leaned back against the wall. Several restraints had been knocked down during their sex session. "I can't believe we did that. I ha—"

Seventy-Two silenced her by putting the hand she had held the dildo with over her mouth. I told you, call me Seventy-Two." She held her hand, wet with Syal's juices, there a few more heartbeats. "Understand?"

Syal nodded her head in agreement, and Seventy-Two slowly dropped her hand down. Then she smiled seductively, picked up the dildo and started licking it clean. Syal giggled embarrassingly.

"Ja—Seventy-Two?" she corrected herself.

"Hmm?" she replied wordlessly before sliding the dildo into her mouth.

"Will you unlock me please?" Syal asked as she twisted and displayed the binders. "I need to get cleaned up."

Before replying, Seventy-Two slowly licked the dildo a few more times, ensuring that every trace of Syal's cum was off. The she picked up a one meter long chain leash that had been knocked off the wall, and snapped the clip onto the D-ring at the front of Syal's collar. Next she pulled a pair of ankle shackles and a ballgag off the wall.

"Follow me," Seventy-Two instructed her calmly as she tugged on the leash.

Cuffed and speechless, Syal slid off the drawers and followed Seventy-Two back into the bedroom.

"Ja—Sevent—Hey! Why the droyk do you have a tattoo that says Imperial Property on your ass?" Syal asked in shock.



Seventy-Two mentally chided herself. She had been so caught up in pleasuring Syal, she had forgot she hadn't seen her tattoo. "To match my gym shorts," she replied as she stopped at the foot of her bed.

"What?" Syal asked in disbelief.

Now Seventy-Two turned and faced Syal. "I got it at the Academy," she answered truthfully as she pushed Syal to a sitting position on the end of the bed. Then she saw Syal glance down at her crotch, and her tattoo of the Imperial Emblem peeking out from either side of the crotch-strap of her chastity belt. "That one too," she explained as she turned to the side, so Syal wouldn't have a chance to read the words Imperial Prostitute underneath the Emblem.

"Oh," Syal replied, apparently satisfied. Then she had another question. "Are you going to unlock me?" she asked tentatively.

"Soon," Seventy-Two replied matter-of-factly. "But first I have to use the 'fresher, and get ready for duty. So what I'm going to do is put these ankle cuffs on you, and gag you while I get ready, okay?"

"Um . . . Okay," Syal replied hesitantly. "But I need to get dressed and check in with Chief Daala, too," Syal added as she raised her feet at Seventy-Two's silent gesture.

Seventy-Two locked the ankle cuffs, which were connected by a forty centimeter chain, onto Syal's outstretched ankles. "I know," she said to Syal as she raised the ballgag to her face.

Syal obediently opened her mouth and Seventy-Two pushed the synthrubber gag in. Then she pulled the nerfhide straps behind her head and buckled them tight. Next she locked the free end of the leash to the restraining point at the end of her bed. After that, Seventy-Two turned on the holoscreen for her.

"Don't go anywhere," she said with a smirk as she walked into the 'fresher.

Half-an-hour later, Seventy-Two wandered back into the bedroom. She had stripped down to her collar, chrono, comlink, and chastity belt for her shower, but now she was wearing her heels and durasteel corset again as well. Syal was still sitting on the edge of the bed.

Seventy-Two smiled. She hadn't given her enough slack to lie down or move around very far. When Syal saw her, she started shouting at her through the gag. Curious, Seventy-Two leaned over unbuckled the ballgag.

"Frakk, Jaina!" Syal exclaimed. "A droid came in while you were in the 'fresher and the door just stayed open the whole time he was in here!"

That explained the muffled scream she had heard from Syal while she was in the shower. "Oh, sorry about that. I guess I forgot to mention that I can't lock the door," Seventy-Two replied soothingly. She choose to ignore the fact that Syal had called her Jaina again. She also didn't think it was the best time to mention that the door could only be locked from the inside by someone that was fucking her and wanted privacy. Or that her door could be locked from the outside if Admiral Garowyn or someone else wanted her to stay put.

"What?" Why can't you lock your own door?" a confused Syal asked her.

"Well, its not my door, its the Empire's door," Seventy-Two told her. "I've never even thought about locking it."

"What?" Syal asked again in bewilderment. "Not even when you go to sleep?"

"Nope," she replied with a smile. "I know the Empire will take care of me, no matter what," she added happily. Before Syal could respond, Seventy-Two asked her question. "Why did the droid come in here anyway?"

Syal glanced over at the open closet door. "He said he had a clean uniform that had been sent by Chief of State Daala specifically for me," she said.

"Good," Seventy-Two replied with a nod of her head. "Lets get you out of those binders and shackles, and into the 'fresher then."

Seventy-Two quickly set about releasing Syal from the binders and ankle cuffs, then told her the 'fresher was all hers.

"What about this?" Syal asked as she reached up and tugged on the nerfhide collar.

"It'll be fine," Seventy-Two told her. Then she frowned slightly. "Unless you really want me to take if off, that is?"

Syal seemed to debate this a couple of seconds. "No, I guess its okay," she answered reluctantly.

While Syal went into the refresher, Seventy-Two headed towards the closet to get ready for duty. It only took her a five minutes or so to get dressed, including her earpieces and spectacles. Then she looked at the uniform that Chief Daala had sent for Syal. Seventy-Two smiled as she imagined Syal wearing the modified Galactic Alliance uniform.

A few minutes later, Syal came out of the 'fresher, still wearing the collar and holding a towel around herself.

"Chief Daala wants me to wear this?" Syal asked indigently as she stared at the uniform Seventy-Two had laid out on the bed for her.

While the uniform in question appeared to be a standard-issue Galactic Alliance starfighter pilot's dress uniform, further examination revealed some interesting modifications.

The long-sleeved tunic and pants were practically the same as before. Dark blue, the Alliance's color, with red trim. The other items however, where obviously borrowed from the Empire's ProCorps uniforms.

Syal reluctantly dropped her towel and Seventy-Two wrapped the durasteel corset around her midsection. Syal had to hold a deep breath so she could engage the lock. The corset displayed her breasts nicely. Instead of a chastity belt, there was a tiny black thong. With her new corset locked on tight, Syal could barely bend down far enough to slide her new panties on. Next, Seventy-Two closed the five centimeter wide red durasteel chrono and comlink cuffs around her wrists.

Then came the blue durasteel collar. This one was just like the one ProCorps troopers wore while in uniform, except for the color. Seventy-Two was sure Syal heard the subtle 'click' as she locked the collar around her neck.

There was also a thin black tank top style undershirt, that unfortunately concealed Syal's nipples. Next Seventy-Two helped her into the uniform pants and tunic. Both appeared to be tailored to be worn with the corset.

Then Seventy-Two had Syal sit down and she pulled the black ankle boots onto her feet. They had thick soles in front and twelve centimeter chunky heels in the back. The boots also had hidden shackles at Syal's ankles, just like Seventy-Two's did at her ankles and just below her knees. She didn't think Syal realized they were locked on now, though.

Last of all was the black eight centimeter wide nerfhide belt. Syal closed it herself, locking it tightly around her waist. As Syal stood in front of the mirror, Seventy-Two realized that the pants were also lengthened several centimeters, so Syal would have to wear the high heeled boots to avoid walking on the hem.

While Syal adjusted her uniform in the mirror, Seventy-Two hooked Syal's earpieces into place on her, and pushed the spectacles into their sockets.

Seventy-Two took a few minutes to help Syal get used to the spectacles and earpieces, not to mention walking in the heels. The information from the spectacles could be very disorienting to a new user. Once Syal got some nice soothing music playing in her earpieces, they turned their attention to their uniforms. A couple of minutes later, the two uniformed and restrained women walked out side-by-side.




Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute Ch. 05



Almost as if she had been watching them, Chief Daala commed Syal just a few seconds after they left the room, and instructed her to come to Admiral Garowyn's office.

"Yes Ma'am," Syal replied cheerfully as she glanced at Seventy-Two.

Admiral Garowyn, Chief Daala, and Boba Fett were waiting for them in the Admiral's reception area. Both Admiral Garowyn and Chief Daala were very impressed with Syal's new uniform. Fett probably was too, but he didn't say so. Seventy-Two immediately checked to make sure there was a fresh pot of stimcaf for the Admiral and her guests.

"Those ProCorps troopers really know how to dress," Chief Daala commented.

Syal thanked them and blushed at the attention. Then Chief Daala got to the reason she summoned Syal.

"Captain Antilles. As you know, we are scheduled to depart the Daala this afternoon." Syal nodded in agreement and Chief Daala continued. "Admiral Garowyn has generously offered you the opportunity to stay on board and visit your friend. The Admiral's schedule happens to take her to Yaga Minor in a week, and I'll be stopping by a few days later. Would you like to stay on board?"

"Yes Ma'am," Syal replied without a moment's hesitation.

Seventy-Two was thrilled. She smiled as she began straightening up the Admiral's reception area.

"Excellent," Chief Daala said. "Now, this is a military vessel, and Admiral Garowyn can't have passengers on board for that long. So you'll be assigned some minor duties, okay?"

"Yes Ma'am," Syal replied again, as Seventy-Two brought Admiral Garowyn her stimcaf.

"Good," Chief Daala replied as she accepted the stimcaf Seventy-Two offered her. "I expect you obey Admiral Garowyn's instructions implicitly."

Syal frowned slightly, but was wouldn't dare argue with her Commander in Chief. "Yes Ma'am," she replied.

"By the way, how do you like the additions to your uniform?" Chief Daala asked after taking another sip of the stimcaf.

Seventy-Two watched Syal's reaction.

"I like it," Syal replied weakly.

Chief Daala, Admiral Garowyn, and Seventy-Two all looked at Syal a moment. "It looks great on you," Chief Daala said. "I think it will be your duty uniform from now on. Wherever you end up."

"Thank you Ma'am," Syal said, puzzled by the last comment.

A few hours later, Chief Daala's shuttles returned to her flagship. Fifteen minutes after that, her eight-ship fleet went into hyperspace.

Syal accompanied Seventy-Two and Admiral Garowyn to see Chief Daala off. Then she returned to the Admiral's office with Seventy-Two, and spent most of the day cleaning the reception area. With Syal handling her cleaning duties, Seventy-Two was able to spend extra time in the Admiral's office, mostly licking her pussy.

Syal didn't seem to mind the boring work at all, she just hummed along to the music in her earpieces.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ End of Chapter 5 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Remember, please vote me a five, and leave me feedback, public or via email.



Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute Ch. 06



Authoress'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 read and enjoy all of my stories, and vote me a five! Also, please leave me feedback, public or via email. 



After nearly ten hours of duty—Seventy-Two did have to make up for the previous day—Admiral Garowyn released Seventy-Two from her personal assistant duties for the day.

Seventy-Two and Syal stopped by the galley for a quick bite to eat, then went to the former's quarters. Once they arrived, both stripped out of their uniform tunics and pants. Since they were in their quarters, Syal was able to unlock her uniform belt and boots without any trouble. Seventy-Two didn't think she realized that she had been locked in her uniform all day.

Then Seventy-Two suggested that they go to the gym again. Syal cheerfully agreed. Fifteen minutes later, Seventy-Two was in her gym outfit, complete with her favorite collar, chrono, and comlink. While they were out, the gym outfit Syal had worn the day before had been delivered to the room. 

This time though, she wore her own red durasteel chrono and comlink cuffs, as well as a red durasteel collar that had been left for her. Besides the colors they were wearing, the only difference between the two was that Seventy-Two was wearing her chastity belt underneath her outfit. 

Seventy-Two was surprised at how well Syal took to wearing a collar so openly. Most of the crewers they passed were very happy as well. The ones that asked what Syal's serial number was—most likely to buy some time with her—were a little disappointed when she told them that she wasn't a ProCorps trooper, but was just visiting the Admiral Daala. Seventy-Two did make sure to tell them that they were going to the gym though, which cheered the crewmen up considerably.

Since Seventy-Two and Syal were already dressed, when they arrived at the gym they immediately began stretching out. The rest of the session was similar to the previous day's. Seventy-Two easily outran Syal on the treadmill, as well as out-worked her on the lower body machines. It was the same for the exercise swoops. After the half-hour of aerobics, they did some cool-down stretching, then headed to the changing room.

In the locker room, both quickly stripped off their tops, shorts, socks and shoes.

"Hey, how do I get this thing off?" Syal asked as she tried vainly to pull the collar open.

"Just leave it on," Seventy-Two encouraged her, hoping she wouldn't be too upset when she found out that she couldn't unlock any of her restraints outside of Seventy-Two's quarters.

"In the shower?" Syal asked.

"Sure, I wear mine in there all the time," Seventy-Two replied.

Syal fingered the leash ring on her collar a moment, then followed her into the shower area. Both were collared, and wearing their durasteel chrono and comlink cuffs. While Seventy-Two was still wearing her chastity belt, Syal was otherwise naked.

In the open twelve person shower, Seventy-Two quickly took the initiative by helping Syal lather herself up. She spent extra time on Syal's breasts and crotch area, which quickly turned the mutual showering into something closer to a standing sex session. She kept Syal from protesting too much by keeping her lips on hers, kissing her passionately.

After a couple of minutes of mutual kissing and petting, Seventy-Two looked up at one of the holocameras and gave their audience a smile and a wink. Then she pressed Syal against the wall and started grinding her chastity belt against Syal's crotch. Seventy-Two had Syal so worked up that she didn't even notice another ProCorps trooper come in a few minutes later. SX-36433 silently inquired if she could join them, but Seventy-Two waved her away apologetically.  

Seventy-Two spent about ten minutes getting Syal hot and ready, then knelt under the shower spray and ate her to orgasm. When Syal opened her eyes, she finally saw that there were three other ProCorps troopers in the shower with them.

"OH—Frakk!" Syal gasped, still coming down off her post-orgasmic high. She frantically tried to push Seventy-Two away while trying to cover herself with her hands and arms.

The ProCorps troopers seemed amused, and a little puzzled by her actions.

"It's okay baby," Seventy-Two quickly assured her as she stood back up, staying close to her. "You don't have to worry about them, they're friends." While she didn't know any of the ProCorps troopers in the shower very well, it didn't matter. They were fellow servants of the Empire.

"Bu—but they saw us!" Syal exclaimed.

And so did several hundred Daala crew members, Seventy-Two thought wryly. "Trust me, they've seen a lot more in here. We do stuff like this all the time," she said as she led the still agitated Syal out of the shower. 

Seventy-Two's last statement was open to debate. The ProCorps troopers often played erotic games in the shower when they had the time, mostly as a show for the Daala's crew so they would spend more credits on them. However, all of the ProCorps troopers were wearing chastity belts, so none of them could actually orgasm.

By the time they had gotten back into the locker room and started drying off, Syal had calmed down some. 

"They just caught me by surprise is all," Syal said as she tossed her guest towel into the laundry chute.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice them either," Seventy-Two apologized.

Intellectually, Seventy-Two knew she should feel bad about lying to Syal. But keeping Syal happy while she was on board the Daala would help convince her to go to the Academy, which was good for the Empire. She just had to show Syal how wonderful serving the Empire was.

Then Seventy-Two thought of another question. "Maybe next time one of them could join us?" she asked.

Syal blushed deeply. "Jaina!" she said in amused shock.

"Seventy-Two," she quickly corrected her with a friendly smile.

"Sorry, Seventy-Two," Syal replied. "I've only been with woman a few times. I don't know if I'm ready for that," she said as she pulled a clean sports bra on.

"Well, maybe we can give it a try before you leave," Seventy-Two commented as she pulled her own clean pair of hot pants up her toned legs.

"Maybe," Syal answered with a slight smile.

Back in her quarters, Seventy-Two slipped off her gym outfit and into her durasteel corset and a pair of fifteen-centimeter heels. Then she stepped over to her computer terminal to check her messages. The terminal was divided off from the rest of the room by a wall, forming a small nook. She heard Syal turn on the holoscreen, then sit down on the pouf couch.

There were quite a few messages inquiring about who her friend was, and if she was a ProCorps trooper. There were also some messages from Officers, mostly her regulars, asking when she would be available again. Then there was a message from Admiral Garowyn, telling her that she had reserved a ProCorps room for her for later that night. Admiral Garowyn also had some instructions for her about Syal. Seventy-Two smiled with anticipation as she read what the Empire had planned for Syal while she was on board the Daala.

Seventy-Two shut down the computer and stepped out of the computer nook to find Syal sitting on her pouf couch, naked and collared. She seemed to be fascinated by the chrono and comlink cuffs on her wrists.

"You need to put your corset back on, Captain Antilles," Seventy-Two told her as she picked up Syal's durasteel corset from her bed. 

"Yes Ma'am, Corporal Solo," Syal answered sarcastically as she stood up. She seemed to be on the verge of saying something else, but instead she held her arms out and took in a deep breath so Seventy-Two could wrap the durasteel plates around her midsection.

"Seventy-Two," she reminded her. 

"Sorry. Yes, Seventy-Two," Syal responded slightly less sarcastically.

"You'll need to wear it as much as possible," Seventy-Two told her as she pressed the edges of the durasteel together until she heard the lock engage.

Syal seemed to be on the verge of questioning this, but instead just replied, "Sure," and sat back down.

Next Seventy-Two went to her closet and picked up a pair of high heeled sandals in Syal's size that had been left for her. "And you'll need plenty of practice walking in heels," she said as she walked back over to the pouf couch.

The strappy sandals had a small platform of a couple of centimeters, and thin stiletto heels fifteen centimeters high. 

This time Syal smiled genuinely as she raised her lower legs. Seventy-Two quickly strapped the heels onto her feet. She didn't mention that they were locked on, and thanks to Admiral Garowyn, only she could unlock them.

At Seventy-Two's suggestion, Syal got up and started walking around to get used to the stiletto heels.

"So, what are we going to do tonight?" Syal asked as she strutted around the room.

Seventy-Two still didn't know what to do with so much free time. Usually by this time she was almost ready for her second customer of the evening. Syal, on the other hand, had something in mind.

"I want to see some more of your outfits and stuff," Syal said. "And try them on."

"Sounds like fun," Seventy-Two replied with a mischievous smile.

The two quickly went to the closest, and started pulling things out. Syal was amazed at some of the things Seventy-Two had. They were close enough in size that most of the outfits would fit Syal. After nearly an hour of trying on various outfits and restraints, Syal pulled out an orange fetish X-wing uniform.

It followed the idea behind the sexy silk Jedi robes Admiral Garowyn liked to see her in. The uniform consisted of a skin-tight orange bodysuit, with long sleeves and openings for the wearer's tits, and another that framed her neatly trimmed pussy and asshole. Since Syal was a little bigger than Seventy-Two, the suit was a little tighter on Syal than it was on her.

The next part of the uniform was a body harness with a web of three centimeter wide black nerfhide straps. The harness also formed a tight bra around Syal's exposed breasts, further displaying them. Connected to the harness by short vertical straps in the front and back were two eight-centimeter-wide straps that Seventy-Two buckled around Syal's upper thighs.

Seventy-Two also had to take off Syal's durasteel collar to make room for the eight centimeter wide nerfhide one that was part of the X-wing uniform. Her chrono and comlink were also replaced by eight centimeter wide nerfhide cuffs, while another pair of nerfhide cuffs went around her upper arms.

A pair of black knee high boots were also part of the uniform, but Syal's feet were a little bigger than Seventy-Two's, so Syal kept the strappy platform sandals she had been wearing. Planning for later, Seventy-Two found another pair of black nerfhide cuffs and locked them around Syal's ankles, over the sandals' ankle-straps. 

After a few minutes of posing, punctuated by kissing and locking Syal's various restraints together, Seventy-Two started taking the X-wing uniform off her, piece by piece. Once Syal was naked except for her durasteel collar, corset, and nerfhide sandals, Seventy-Two locked a pair of durasteel shackles onto her wrists and another pair onto her ankles. Then she picked up a few items, and led Syal to the bedroom.

The two spent a few more minutes sensually kissing and petting, as Seventy-Two used the four lengths of chain she had brought to lock each of Syal's limbs to the bed, in a tight spread-eagle. Then Seventy-Two picked up the dildo she had also brought.

This particular dildo was made of black synthrubber, and was nearly twenty centimeters long, and nearly five in diameter. What Seventy-Two really liked about this one was that it had a magnetic base that she could use to attach it to the front of her chastity belt, forming a sort of strap-on. A few of her regulars, both male and female, liked for her to fuck them with it. 

Syal squirmed in her bonds as Seventy-Two slowly climbed up onto the bed. Seventy-Two made sure to put on a show for the holocameras, making every move as sensuous as possible. She crawled atop Syal's supine form, and they shared a long kiss. Then Seventy-Two rose up a little, and posed with the tip of her dildo just centimeters from Syal's moist snatch.

With a wink to Syal, Seventy-Two reached down and turned on the dildo's built-in vibrator. She let Syal, and the holocameras get a good look, then slowly pushed her vibrating synthrubber cock into Syal's now-quivering pussy. 

Seventy-Two quickly began fucking her captive partner, while Syal managed to push her hips back against her thrusts. Six minutes later, Syal screamed out in orgasm.

Seventy-Two kept her vibrating dildo in to the hilt until Syal finished. Then she pulled it out with a 'plop', and rolled off her.

"Damn baby, that was good," Seventy-Two said with a sigh, pretending she was a man that had just orgasmed.

Syal giggled in response as she absentmindedly tried to lower her arms. "It certainly was for me. Twice in one day. Frakk, twice in just a couple of hours."

"Well, you're not quite finished yet," Seventy-Two said as she rolled back over and straddled Syal's chest. The dildo, which was still attached to her chastity belt, was sticking out towards Syal's face. "I need you to clean me off," she added as she held her synthrubber dildo, still glistening with Syal's juices, just centimeters from her mouth.

Seventy-Two wanted Syal to do this mainly for the benefit of the Daala's crew members that were watching on their holoscreens. She knew how much men liked to see two women together, especially when they were doing something that wouldn't directly bring either of them pleasure, but was for their audience's entertainment.

The second reason she wanted Syal to suck her dildo clean was that she needed to get used to the idea that she was meant to serve the Empire, even if that meant licking her cum off a dildo while the Daala's crew watched via the holocameras, although Seventy-Two hoped she would enjoy that as well.

Syal hesitated several seconds, then tentatively reached out and took the tip into her mouth. Seventy-Two stayed still, making her strain her neck for it. 

"A little help," Syal asked, her voice barely intelligible with her lips around the tip of the dildo.

"Oh, sorry," Seventy-Two replied casually as she pushed the dildo forward about ten centimeters, giving Syal better access to it.

Syal spent a minute or so licking and sucking her own juice off the synthrubber dildo. By the time she finished, she was smiling and winking up at Seventy-Two enthusiastically.

For Seventy-Two's part, she rocked her hips back and forth like Syal was giving her a blow-job. For the benefit of their audience. She hoped they enjoyed the show. 

When Seventy-Two finally decided that it was clean, she climbed off the bed and to her feet. Then she picked up Syal's earpieces and spectacles from the nightstand, and, while Syal looked on in silent puzzlement, put them on her. Next Seventy-Two strutted back into her closet, and came out carrying a cock gag. 

Syal was obviously listening to the music coming from the earpieces, and not really paying attention. Seventy-Two hopped back up onto the bed, and just as Syal opened her mouth in surprise, pushed the synthrubber cock between her lips.

Since Syal was chained spread-eagle, and could only move her head around, Seventy-Two had no trouble holding her still and strapping the gag in tight. Then she sat up, still straddling her.

"Now, Captain Antilles," Seventy-Two said with a friendly smile. "I'm going to go to the 'fresher, and clean up a bit. I want you to stay right here, and listen to your music, okay?"

As Syal groaned in frustration through the gag, Seventy-Two leaned down and kissed the nerfhide panel covering her mouth. As Syal stopped groaning, Seventy-Two climbed off the bed, and winked at one of the holocameras. Then she walked into the 'fresher, leaving Syal naked and chained spread-eagle on the bed, just a couple of meters from the door that she couldn't lock from the inside. 

Twenty minutes later Seventy-Two came out of the 'fresher and sat back down on the edge of the bed next to Syal.

"Miss me?" she asked the bound and gagged woman.

Syal shrugged her shoulders in response.

Seventy-Two laughed, then released her so she could use the 'fresher. Afterward, the two went to bed. Syal wore her corset, collar, and wrist and ankle cuffs, none of which were attached to anything now, while Seventy-Two wore her collar, corset, chrono and comlink. Just like the previous night, Seventy-Two made sure to turn on the special music for Syal to listen to while she slept, like she had been instructed.

A few hours later, also just like the previous night, Seventy-Two woke up, and slipped out of the bed. After using the 'fresher, she checked the computer to find that a room was already reserved for her use. Then she pulled on her tight black PVC coat, and left.

Nearly four hours and eleven satisfied Imperial Officers later, Seventy-Two returned to find Syal awake, lying on the bed, idly running a finger around the outside of her pussy. She barely even reacted when the door opened, or when Seventy-Two stood in the door way, keeping it open.

"Having fun?" Seventy-Two asked her with an amused smile.

Syal smiled back lazily. "Hey, can I borrow one of your dildos? I tried to get one out of your closet, but the door wouldn't open." she asked as she slipped a finger between her moist lips.

Seventy-Two finally stepped all the way into the room, and allowed the door to close behind her. "Sorry babe, we've got duty. No time for masturbating right now," she replied.

Syal gave her a cute frown, then slowly licked her fingers clean. She didn't even ask why she had to report for duty. She just climbed out of the bed and went into the 'fresher.

Half-an-hour later, the two uniformed women headed for a quick breakfast at the galley, then to Admiral Garowyn's office. Since the Admiral wasn't in yet, Seventy-Two started her stimcaf, while Syal started straightening up the reception area. Both had music playing softly in their earpieces, and a colorfully transparent pattern playing on their spectacles.

When Admiral Garowyn finally arrived, nearly ten minutes later, both Seventy-Two and Syal snapped to parade rest.

"Good morning Ma'am," they greeted her cheerfully.

"Seventy-Two, Captain Antilles," she replied with a nod.

While Seventy-Two pour the Admiral's caf, she kept her eyes on Syal, who was still at parade rest.

"Did you have a good night's sleep, Captain Antilles?" she asked after a few moments.

"Yes Ma'am," Syal replied as Seventy-Two handed the Admiral her caf.

Admiral Garowyn took a sip before speaking again. "And did you enjoy your other activities?"

Syal's eyes went wide for a moment. "Um, which other activities, Ma'am?" she asked carefully.

Admiral Garowyn paused dramatically before replying, "Why your workout in the gym, of course." Then she took another sip of her caf. "What activities did you think I was asking about?"

"Um, I don't know, Ma'am," Syal replied nervously.

Admiral Garowyn glanced at Seventy-Two with a smile, then walked over and sat down on one of her pouf-couches. "Well, Captain Antilles, do you still like your new uniform?" she asked.

"I love it," Syal replied enthusiastically, still standing at parade rest.

"Good," Admiral Garowyn replied with a nod of her head. "Don't you think you should be completely in uniform, though?"

"Ma'am?" Syal asked, confused.

"You need to be wearing a chastity belt while you're on board the Daala," Admiral Garowyn explained casually.

Syal glanced at Seventy-Two, then back at Admiral Garowyn. "Um, if you think it's best, Admiral Garowyn," she replied tentatively.




Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute Ch. 06



Seventy-Two smiled. That was a very ProCorps response. 

"It is," Admiral Garowyn answered. Then she turned to Seventy-Two. "Take Captain Antilles to the ProCorps supply room and get her fitted with a chastity belt," she instructed her.

"Yes Admiral," Seventy-Two replied cheerfully, then led Syal out of the office, to be locked into a chastity belt.

It took them almost ten minutes to make the long trek to the ProCorps supply room. A ProCorps supply sergeant was waiting for them when they arrived. Syal seemed embarrassed as she told him her size, and insisted on him leaving the room so she could change. He went into the back and Seventy-Two helped Syal lock the chastity belt onto her.

Other than during role plays, Seventy-Two hadn't worn panties since the Academy. She didn't even think about them either, much less miss them. It made getting dressed just that much easier. She hoped Syal would go to the Academy as well, and learn to serve the Empire as she did. Idly, she wondered if Syal would ever wear panties again.

Nearly half-an-hour later they returned, both fully in uniform. Admiral Garowyn was in her office proper, at her desk. Seventy-Two and Syal stood at parade rest at the door, waiting for Admiral Garowyn to acknowledge them.

"Enter," she instructed them after nearly a minute.

They walked in, and went back to parade rest a meter in front of her desk.

"Let me see it," she told Syal.

Seventy-Two watched Syal out of the corner of her eye. After barely a moment's hesitation, she reached up to take off her belt.

"Um, It won't come off," she explained, unnecessarily, to Admiral Garowyn.

Admiral Garowyn smiled. "That's right. It won't. Your uniform belt, collar, corset, boots, chrono, comlink, and now your chastity belt are locked onto you until I decide otherwise." She gave Syal a few moments to consider that, then asked, "You don't have a problem with that, do you Captain Antilles?"

Now Seventy-Two turned her head a couple of centimeters towards Syal, to get a better look at her face.

"Um, no Ma'am," she replied after a moment's hesitation, still looking slightly confused.

"Excellent," Admiral Garowyn replied with a smile. "Now, Seventy-Two has fallen behind on her ProCorps duties since you've come on board, so I have decided that she is going to spend the rest of the day attending to them. You will stay here and cover for her as my personal assistant," she instructed them.

"Yes Admiral," Seventy-Two replied happily.

"Yes Ma'am," Syal replied a moment later.

"Seventy-Two, get Captain Antilles started on your typing, and tell her anything you think she should know, then you can attend to your other duties," Admiral Garowyn instructed Seventy-Two.

"Yes Admiral," she replied obediently as they turned to walk out of her office.

"And Captain Antilles, while I don't expect you to fill in completely for Seventy-Two, I do expect you to give your best effort at all tasks, understood?"

"Yes Ma'am," Syal answered.

Both paused another few heartbeats, then walked out of the office and into the reception area.

Seventy-Two quickly showed Syal how to use the computer's word processing program, and what she needed to type. She wondered if Admiral Garowyn would have her perform the more 'personal' of Seventy-Two's personal assistant duties, but didn't mention it. Instead, she just told Syal when to expect Admiral Garowyn to summon her, and left.

Seventy-Two spent the next eight hours or so servicing a steady stream of Imperial Officers. Nearly nine hours later, Syal came into her room. Seventy-Two was resting on her bed, wearing her favorite collar, corset, chastity belt, chrono and comlink, and fifteen-centimeter heels. There was no mistaking the smell of sex in the room.

"Ready to hit the gym?" Syal asked with a smile as she stood in the doorway, keeping it open.

After countless hours working out in the gym, and in the bedroom, Seventy-Two was in fantastic shape. Still, she was used to working out before hours of sex, so she was a little tired at the moment. "How was your day?" she asked Syal, changing the subject for the moment.

Syal walked into the room, letting the door close behind her. "Fine. I typed until my fingers hurt, then got Admiral Garowyn her lunch—she didn't let me eat—then I typed some more," Syal said as she sat down on the pouf couch. "Oh, and I gave her a full body massage," she added as she took off her spectacles and earpieces.

Seventy-Two raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. She hadn't thought Admiral Garowyn would go that far so soon. She quickly recovered however. "Great," Seventy-Two replied casually. "I hope you did a good job."

Syal pulled off her belt before replying. "Admiral Garowyn said I did alright." Then she frowned as she pulled off her uniform jacket and added, "But she said that I had to practice more."

Seventy-Two smiled back at her. "Well, I'd let you practice on me, but. . ." and looked down at her own chastity belt.

Syal reached down, and pulled off her boots. "She also told me that I could only open my chastity belt like yours opened, and that you would tell me how."

Now Seventy-Two rolled over and looked at her a moment. She could only take off her chastity belt when an Officer ran his ID chit over the scanner on the front of her chastity belt. "She did?" she asked carefully.

Syal pulled off her jodhpurs. "Yes. She did."

Seventy-Two wasn't quite ready to explain that to her yet. "Let's hit the gym," she suggested, changing the subject.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ End of Chapter 6 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Remember, please vote me a five, and leave me feedback, public or via email.



Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute Ch. 07



Authoress'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 read and enjoy all of my stories, and vote me a five! Also, please leave me feedback, public or via email. 





Fifteen minutes later, they were both wearing their gym outfits, and walking out of Seventy-Two's quarters. Once they arrived they did Seventy-Two's usual workout, treadmill, weights, swoop-bike, and aerobics.

After their cool down stretches, they went back into the locker room, stripped down to their corsets, collars, chronos and comlinks, and showered together.

The shower quickly turned into an intense make-out session. They couldn't do much more, because they were both wearing chastity belts. Still, Seventy-Two knew that the Imperial troopers on board would appreciate the show.

They spent about ten minutes getting as horny as they could, then Syal finally pushed Seventy-Two away.

"You've go to get this thing off me!" she said pulling on her chastity belt with her thumb.

"If I could, don't you think I would take mine off?" Seventy-Two answered as she pulled at her own belt.

Mutually frustrated, both finished their shower, got dressed, and went to the galley to eat.

Once they got back to Seventy-Two's quarters, Syal asked her how she opened her chastity belt.

"I can't open it at all," Seventy-Two answered.

"Well who the frakk can?"

"Actually, both of our belts are controlled by the ship's computer," Seventy-Two replied after a slight pause.

"So how do I get it off?" Syal asked insistently.

Seventy-Two took a deep breath. "Well, only an Officer can open my belt," she replied.

Suddenly, Syal's eyes lit up. "Hey! I'm an officer," she announced happily.

"I meant an Imperial Officer," Seventy-Two replied with a wry smile. She didn't really consider Galactic Alliance officers true officers anymore, and would be outraged if one of them could open her chastity belt. Unless the Empire wanted it, that was.

"Oh," Syal said with obvious disappointment. "Well, which officer can open it then?" she asked, disappointment turning into hope.

"Well, any one of them can. They arrange times that they want to open it with the computer, and if I'm available, they can open it for how ever much time the computer says," Seventy-Two explained. She left out the part about them paying the Empire to open her chastity belt and fuck her.

"What? Syal asked in confusion.

"Any Imperial Officer on board the Daala can arrange to have the computer unlock my chastity belt for a specific period of time."

"Do you have sex with them?" Syal asked, understanding beginning to form on her face.

Seventy-Two smiled. "That's up to them, but why else would they want to open it?"

Syal starred back at her in shock. "So you just let any officer that opens your chastity belt have sex with you?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Seventy-Two replied cheerfully. She could sense that Syal was a little turned on by the idea, but didn't want to embarrass her Rebel friend by bringing it up. . . yet.

Syal sat there a few moments. "So that's what the big secret is!" she declared.

It took Seventy-Two a moment to realize what she was talking about. The promises that Syal made to Admiral Garowyn and herself not to talk about what she saw on board the Daala.

"You could have told me that," Syal said after a few seconds.

"I was ordered not to," Seventy-Two replied, instead of openly disagreeing with her.

"Oh, well, you can't argue with orders," Syal answered with a smile.

"Nope," she agreed.

"So that means that one of them can open mine too?" Syal asked.

"Um, let me check on that," Seventy-Two replied as she stepped over to the computer terminal. "Only Admiral Garowyn can open your belt right now," Seventy-Two told her after a minute.

Syal sat there several seconds, thinking. After a few minutes of discussion, Seventy-Two got ready for an appointment with the Daala's Captain. Fifteen minutes later, Seventy-Two left, leaving Syal alone in her quarters.

A little over three hours later, she returned to find Syal asleep. To her surprise, her music was playing softly over the room's speakers. Seventy-Two quietly stripped down to her collar, corset, chrono and comlink, used the 'fresher, and crawled into bed next to her. 

A few hours later, a well-rested Seventy-Two woke up, and got ready to serve the Daala's Officers. After she was dressed, she checked the computer terminal for messages. She found one from Admiral Garowyn, instructing her to cuff Syal's hands behind her back, and leash her to the bed before she left.

Smiling, Seventy-Two slipped into the closet and retrieved a five-centimeter-long durasteel bar with a magnetic lock on each end, and a meter-long chain leash. Then she quietly approached Syal's sleeping form, and carefully locked one end of the bar to her right wrist cuff. Next, in one quick motion, Seventy-Two rolled her over, pulled both of her hands behind her, and locked the other end to her left wrist cuff.

"Hey?" Syal said in confusion as she woke up.

"I'm going out for a while," Seventy-Two told her. "And Admiral Garowyn wants me to cuff you and leash you to the bed," she added as she climbed off the bed.

Syal looked up at her groggily. "Oh, okay then," she replied as she rolled back over to her side and closed her eyes.

Seventy-Two quickly attached one end of the leash to Syal's collar, and the other end to the anchor point at the corner of the bed. Then she happily walked out, mildly surprised that Syal had so easily accepted being restrained while she slept.

A little over four hours later, Seventy-Two returned to find Syal still cuffed and leashed to the bed, asleep. Her music was still playing softly.

"Wakey wakey," Seventy-Two said as she nudged her side.

Syal groaned as she rolled over to her back.

"Did you have a good night's sleep?" Seventy-Two asked her as her eyes opened.

Syal blinked a few times. "Alright," she replied groggily.

"Well it's time to get up. Admiral Garowyn needs her stimcaf. And typing done. And probably some other stuff too," Seventy-Two said as she rolled Syal over and unlocked the chain between her wristcuffs.

After Syal got up, they decided to take a shower together. The shower in Seventy-Two's 'fresher was quite a bit smaller than the one in the gym, but since it was designed for her to get fucked in anyway, they still had plenty of room. They also had enough room to make themselves horny again, in Syal's case, very frustrated, since they couldn't do anything about it. Seventy-Two had just cum quite a few times, and was quite happy with the Empire controlling her orgasms, so not being able to cum didn't bother her at all. 

Fifty minutes later, both were fully in uniform, heading for the galley, then to Admiral Garowyn's office. Syal was determined to speak with Admiral Garowyn about her chastity belt.

Fifteen minutes after they arrived, Admiral Garowyn came in. After they exchanged greetings, Syal asked her if she would unlock her chastity belt for her.

"Why?" Admiral Garowyn asked her, feigning puzzlement.

Syal visible squirmed for a few seconds. "Um, I need to um, relax," she stammered. "It will only take a few minutes," she added quickly.

Admiral Garowyn sat down on one of her pouf chairs. "So you want me to unlock the Empire's chastity belt so you can masturbate yourself to orgasm, right?"

"Ye—Yes Ma'am, Syal replied, softly, visibly blushing.

Admiral Garowyn smiled sympathetically. "I understand. You've spent a lot of time around Seventy-Two here, who fucks anyone she can."

Seventy-Two didn't let her disagreement show. She wouldn't fuck any one. Just any Imperial.

Admiral Garowyn continued. "It must be hard for you, knowing that you can't orgasm while your slutty little friend cums twenty or twenty-five times a day."

Syal looked shocked.

"You did know that she was sneaking out at night and letting my Officers fuck her, right?" 

Syal glanced at Seventy-Two in betrayal. "No Ma'am," she replied.

"Tsk tsk," Admiral Garowyn replied, shaking her head. Then she changed the subject somewhat. "Now, you've been around Seventy-Two, who is very happy serving the Empire. You are obviously subconsciously jealous of her happiness."

Syal stood there at parade rest, not sure how to respond.

"So, I am going to give you a choice. You can use this dildo," she sat a smooth metallic dildo about twelve centimeters long on the caf table, then continued. "And have five minutes to orgasm. Or you can go without at least until tomorrow morning."

Seventy-Two watched Syal gaze at the shiny dildo. A few days after she had received her first chastity belt at the Imperial Academy she had been given a similar choice.

"I—I'll do it," Syal stammered after several seconds.

"I thought so," Admiral Garowyn said as she hit a button on the remote in her hand. "Strip," she ordered the young Galactic Alliance officer.

Syal stared back at her for a couple of seconds in puzzlement. "Here?" she asked incredulously.

"Right here. Right now. Or you won't cum for two days," Admiral Garowyn replied sternly.

Syal swallowed nervously, then unbuckled her belt.

"Fold it neatly and lay it on the couch," Admiral Garowyn instructed her after she took off her jacket.

A few moments later, Syal was standing there wearing nothing but her collar, chrono, comlink, and corset.

"Seventy-Two," Admiral Garowyn stated simply.

Seventy-Two immediately understood. She looked down at her chrono, noted the time to the second, and said, "Now."

Syal stood there blankly.

"Go ahead," Admiral Garowyn said impatiently, waving her hand.

Syal grabbed the dildo and quickly pushed it into her soaking pussy. After a few strokes, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back in ecstasy.

"Open your eyes and look at me," Admiral Garowyn instructed her. "I want you to see who is allowing you to orgasm," she added.

Syal complied almost instantly.

"And do keep a little quieter, or I'll have Seventy-Two gag you," Admiral Garowyn commented when Syal started moaning too loudly.

Seventy-Two kept track of the time while she watched Syal masturbate in front of Admiral Garowyn. Three minutes and forty-eight seconds after her time started, Syal bit her lip in an effort to keep quiet as she moaned in orgasm.

At Admiral Garowyn's instruction, she obediently licked the dildo clean. Then Admiral Garowyn allowed Syal a minute to step into the reception area's refresher to clean up. When she came back, Admiral Garowyn instructed her to put her chastity belt back on, and lock it. After barely a moment's hesitation, Syal put it on, and pushed the lock closed. Once she was dressed, it was time for Seventy-Two to start her personal assistant duties. Without needing to be told, Syal joined in.

At mid-morning Seventy-Two went into Admiral Garowyn's office alone, to give her her morning pussy licking. At mid-afternoon she did the same. The end of the day found both Seventy-Two and Syal standing at parade rest in front of Admiral Garowyn's desk.

Admiral Garowyn informed them that after a light supper—as if a ProCorps trooper ever had any other kind—and their workout, both of them would be spending the evening with her, in her quarters. 

"Yes Ma'am," they replied, and left for the galley.

After eating, they headed for the gym, then to Seventy-Two's quarters to change. There they found a message from Admiral Garowyn instructing them what to wear, and what to bring.

First Seventy-Two helped Syal put on the X-wing outfit that she had worn a couple of nights before. Then Seventy-Two put on the outfit Admiral Garowyn had instructed her to. 

Her durasteel corset and chastity belt came first. Then a glossy black synth-hide bodysuit, complete with gloves. Over that she put on a fifty-millimeter tall silver durasteel collar, and a pair of matching wristcuffs. Both had four rows of spikes around them. Next she pulled on a pair of glossy black seventeen centimeter high heeled boots on.

After the boots Seventy-Two put a short riding crop on her right hip, and a set of binders on her left one. She smiled at Syal, who was blissfully unaware of the purpose of the riding crop and binders. Finally both pulled on long PVC coats to cover up, and left.

The first thing they did when they arrived at Admiral Garowyn's suite was to take off their coats. As Seventy-Two suspected, Admiral Garowyn was wearing her black dominatrix outfit.

First Syal learned how to roleplay a captured Galactic Alliance pilot. Seventy-Two played the part of Imperial Intelligence Agent Garowyn's assistant. Within minutes, the binders were clamped around Syal's wrists, stretched tight over her head. Agent Garowyn was vigorously cropping her ass, and asking her the location of the secret Rebel base. Captain Antilles bravely refused to give up the information.

After nearly an hour of restraint and punishment, Syal revealed the location of the base. Actually, she had been naming places for a while, and obviously enjoying the whole experience, but when Agent Garowyn saw that her eager captive was nearly at her limit, she ended the game.

After the role play, Seventy-Two helped teach Syal how to properly lick pussy. Admiral Garowyn insisted she practice on her several times before the night was finished. Neither of their chastity belts came off, and thus, neither got to orgasm the entire time though.

Three and a half hours after they arrived, the two frustrated women went back to Seventy-Two's quarters. After they crawled into bed, Seventy-Two cuffed Syal's hands behind her back. Syal barely even questioned why. Then Seventy-Two brought on own hands behind her back, and closed the binders around her wrists.

Soon they were asleep, with Syal's music playing. Just like the previous nights, Seventy-Two awoke a few hours later and went out to service as many Imperial Officers as she could. Tonight though, a Lieutenant Commander reserved her for an entire hour, so she could only satisfy seven.

When Seventy-Two returned, Syal was awake, trying to get her chastity belt off; obviously frustrated. Finally she gave up, and they got ready for duty.

As soon as Admiral Garowyn came into her office, Syal practically begged her to unlock her chastity belt. Admiral Garowyn flatly refused, and when Syal protested, she ordered Seventy-Two to gag her. Seventy-Two made sure that her spectacles and earpieces were in place after she locked the ballgag onto her. Silenced and still horny, Syal reluctantly went to work.

An-hour-and-a-half later, Admiral Garowyn called Seventy-Two in for her mid-morning pussy licking, and made sure that Syal heard her. Seventy-Two glanced at Syal, expecting her to be upset, but she just groaned and kept typing. At eleven hundred hours Admiral Garowyn instructed them to continue working, and left for her usual two hour lunch break. This had long been the normal routine for Seventy-Two, and Syal appeared to be getting used to not eating lunch now as well. 

Mid-afternoon Admiral Garowyn ordered Syal to come into her office and watch Seventy-Two lick her pussy. She seemed to try to protest through the gag, but obeyed.

At the end of the day, Admiral Garowyn called them into her office, and instructed Seventy-Two to remove Syal's gag.

"Now Captain Antilles, do you still want to orgasm?" Admiral Garowyn asked her, as Seventy-Two pulled out her gag.

"Yes Ma'am," Syal answered as she worked the soreness out of her jaw.

"Well then, I'm going to allow you to accompany Seventy-Two tonight. Every Imperial Officer that unlocks her chastity belt can unlock yours as well."

Syal's eyes went wide as she realized what that meant, but she didn't protest.

"But first, you must promise to obey every Officer explicitly, just as Seventy-Two does."

Seventy-Two watched Syal's face, gauging her reaction.

"Yes Ma'am," she answered, her eagerness for an orgasm overriding her hesitation.

"Good. Now, Imperial Officers and enlisted personnel are well-briefed as to what they can and can't do with a ProCorps trooper, so there is no need for you to worry about being harmed. The Empire will take care of you," Admiral Garowyn told her.

Seventy-Two wasn't quite sure if Syal realized that she would be watched. She wondered if she would find out that she had been monitored and recorded pretty much every second since coming on board the Daala. Seventy-Two was very grateful to the Empire for monitoring and recording her for her protection, and she hoped Syal would be too, if she found out. Because of Syal's Rebel training though, Seventy-Two didn't think she'd be very happy about it. . . yet.

Of course, the main reason for the holocameras was to arouse any Imperial Personnel that might be watching. That was a very important part of all ProCorps trooper's duties, and it always turned Seventy-Two on as well. It would also cause them to pay more for the ProCorps troopers. Not that the ProCorps troopers ever got any of the credits. 

After the ProCorps troopers' expenses were taken care of, twenty percent of the revenue that they produced went into the morale and welfare fund for the unit they were serving. Forty percent went towards taking care of Imperial Naval and Army veterans. The remaining forty percent went towards recruiting and training more ProCorps troopers. Seventy-Two felt proud to be helping take care of heroic Imperial veterans. It was the best possible use for a girl like her.

"Do you understand, Captain Antilles?" Admiral Garowyn asked her when she didn't immediately respond.

"Yes Ma'am," Syal answered, a little hesitantly.

Admiral Garowyn watched her a moment. "You do understand that you'll be having sex with multiple Imperial Officers, don't you Captain Antilles?"

Seventy-Two watched Syal swallow nervously. "Yes Ma'am," she replied, almost sure of herself.

"Good," Admiral Garowyn replied with a nod of her head. "There is one little problem though. The name Antilles is a little too well known in the Empire, so only use your first name tonight, understand?"

"Yes Ma'am," Syal answered. 

Admiral Garowyn dismissed them, and they left for the galley. While they were eating, Seventy-Two took a moment to review the list of Officers that would be visiting her and Syal tonight. ProCorps troopers were allowed to do this to better anticipate their clients' needs and desires.

After a light dinner, Seventy-Two and Syal went to the gym to workout, then to Seventy-Two's quarters. Less than five minutes after arriving, Lieutenant Cranmiir walked in.

Both Seventy-Two and Syal were down to their uniform collar, chrono, comlink, corset, and chastity belts. Seventy-Two had changed into a pair of fifteen-centimeter slip-on wedge heels, while Syal was still barefoot. At Seventy-Two's suggestion, Syal was also still wearing her earpieces and spectacles.

"Hey baby, it's been a while," he said as the door closed behind him. Then he noticed Syal, who had grabbed a pillow and was holding it in front of herself. 

"Hey," he said with a smile as he checked her out. "I haven't seen you around before."

"Hello Lieutenant," Seventy-Two said. "This is my friend Syal from the Galactic Alliance. She is. . . working with me tonight," she explained.

He glanced at Seventy-Two in confusion, then looked back at Syal. "So what, I have to pick, or is it like a two for one deal?" he asked.

Seventy-Two thought about it a couple of seconds. "Yes Sir. You can have either of us, or both. I can watch, or Syal can watch. Or if you prefer, you can watch us," Seventy-Two said with a smile as she walked over and wrapped her arm around Syal's corseted waist.

Lieutenant Cranmiir smiled at both of them. "Lucky me," he replied happily. "Unfortunately, I've only got the time to fuck one of you, and since I've had you before," he nodded towards Seventy-Two, "I'm gonna take Syal here for a spin."




Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute Ch. 07



By the time he had decided, Seventy-Two had gently pulled the pillow away from Syal. From past experience, Seventy-Two knew that Lieutenant Cranmiir pretty much liked straight sex. As he undressed, Seventy-Two got Syal to lie on the bed, waiting on him.

Naked, Lieutenant Cranmiir ran his ID chit over the scanner on the front of Syal's chastity belt. Seventy-Two heard the familiar beep and the sound of the magnetic locks releasing, and she helped Syal pull it off, then set it down next to the bed.

As soon as the gleaming durasteel was out of the way, Lieutenant Cranmiir straddled Syal and slid his quickly hardening cock into her moist snatch. With his permission, Seventy-Two joined in, dividing her attention between kissing and caressing the two of them while he fucked her.

Seventy-Two was naturally far more concerned with pleasing Lieutenant Cranmiir than Syal. An Imperial Officer automatically mattered in ways that a Rebel didn't, even a former close friend such as Syal. She was already very lucky to be in a position that rightly belonged to a ProCorps trooper. During Seventy-Two's ProCorps training however, she had learned that seeing two attractive women together was very arousing to most men, so she spent some time on Syal for his benefit.

Syal was very aroused before they had started, so it only took her a few minutes to orgasm. Lieutenant Cranmiir on the other hand, was a bit older, not as horny, and thus took quite a bit longer. In fact, Syal was nearly to a second orgasm by the time he grunted and shot his load into her.

"Thanks baby," he said wearily as he rolled off her. 

Seventy-Two quickly sent Syal to the 'fresher to get cleaned up, while she helped Lieutenant Cranmiir get dressed. 

A couple of minutes later, Lieutenant Cranmiir left, and Seventy-Two went into the 'fresher to see what was keeping Syal. Almost as soon as she walked in, Syal's comlink, her chrono, and from the bedroom, her chastity belt, all started beeping insistently. Seventy-Two quickly dragged her back into the bedroom and helped her put the chastity belt back on. Then she briefly explained to Syal that she would be punished if she didn't get it locked back on within sixty seconds.

Less than four minutes later, Ensign Trabbe arrived. He was very happy to find out that he was getting a bonus, and since he was young, virile, and energetic, he was also up to the task of taking advantage of both Seventy-Two and his bonus.

Nineteen minutes after they started, Seventy-Two and Syal heard the warning beeps from their chastity belts, chronos, and comlinks. They quickly untangled themselves from him and each other, and put them back on.

Ensign Trabbe was a little upset, he had been well on his way to his second orgasm. Imperial regulations were strict though. If you only pay for twenty minutes, then you only play for twenty minutes. With a sigh of resignation, he got up, and started getting dressed.

Soon after Ensign Trabbe left, Seventy-Two's next client came in. Well, clients.

Commander Will Wrikker was the Daala's first officer, and as usual, he was accompanied by his wife, Lieutenant Commander Diaana Wrikker, who was the ship's head counselor. 

Of the Daala's sixteen thousand or so crew members, there were only a couple of hundred married couples on board. Out of those, only two couples used Seventy-Two regularly. She also knew that several other ProCorps troopers had some regular couples as well.

The Wrikkers normally reserved her for ninety minutes, so they each had plenty of time for her to pleasure them, but tonight they were scheduled for two hours. Seventy-Two wondered if they had been tipped off that Syal would be available as well as herself. That suspicion grew when Commander Wrikker revealed that he knew who Syal really was. 

Usually the Wrikkers flipped a credit chip to see who would she would pleasure first, even though they would often use her together. Tonight though, they flipped one to see who got to pick first. Will Wrikker won, and chose Syal. While Diaana went into the closet to get a strap-on, he unlocked Seventy-Two's and Syal's chastity belts. Lieutenant Commander Wrikker returned naked except for the black strap-on, carrying two sets of binders.

Syal was a little nervous about being cuffed by a stranger, but after a little reassurance from Seventy-Two, she meekly allowed him to lock the binders onto her wrists behind her back. Thirty seconds or so later, both Seventy-Two and Syal were kneeling on the bed, leaning forwards with their asses sticking in the air, wrists cuffed behind their backs. 

The Wrikkers each moved into position behind their chosen girl, and pushed their cocks, one real, one synthrubber, into their pussies simultaneously.

Several minutes of vigorous fucking later, Seventy-Two heard Commander Wrikker grunt as he came into Syal. It wasn't long until Seventy-Two felt her own orgasm nearing. From the sounds that Syal was making, she was about to cum as well.

"Ooohhh!" Seventy-Two screamed out less than a minute later. From behind her, she heard Diaana say offhandedly, "I win." Then Syal screamed out in her own orgasm.

Next, Commander Wrikker, who was strangely upset, unlocked Seventy-Two's binders, and with two lengths of chain, cuffed her wrists to the ceiling about a meter apart. Then he pulled her feet a similar distance apart and secured them with shackles and magnetic locks attached to the deck. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Commander Wrikker was strapping a double ended cock gag onto Syal.

First there were the straps that went around and over her head. Two went under her chin, cinching her mouth tight. Then there was the cock gag, which Seventy-Two knew from personal experience was about eight centimeters long, and four wide. A panel covered her mouth, which along with the gag, ensured her silence. The synthrubber cock extended through the panel, sticking out twenty centimeters to form the other end of the dildo.

The gag's purpose was to allow a submissive to pleasure their mistress while the mistress maintained control over their submissive. It was one of Admiral Garowyn's favorite restraints to use on Seventy-Two.

Once Commander Wrikker had Seventy-Two secure, he stepped into the closet.

"By the way, did we mention that we were having a contest?" Diaana asked them, while he was out of the room. Without waiting for an answer, she explained the contest.

"Whichever one of us made our little slave cum first, won! And since I did—" she reached down and patted Syal's head—"Captain Antilles here is going to use that wonderful toy sticking out of her mouth to make me cum!"

"And while she's doing that, I'm going to be punishing the little slut that caused me to loose," Commander Wrikker announced as he came back into the room. He grinned evilly as he displayed the short multi-tailed nerfhide whip he had.

Before they begin, Diaana insisted that her husband gag Seventy-Two, claiming that her gagged screams would turn her on. Commander Wrikker insisted on removing her corset, to give him a bigger target. Soon Seventy-Two was gagged and being flogged, while Syal pleasured Lieutenant Commander Wrikker with her double ended cock gag.

It seemed like an eternity to Seventy-Two before Commander Wrikker finally stopped flogging her. The whip was soft—the Empire didn't want its ProCorps troopers injured—but she had felt every lash. Still, Seventy-Two was happy that the Empire took good care of its ProCorps troopers.

First they had Syal replace Seventy-Two's corset, then they had her let her down. Next they switched places, with Commander Wrikker fucking Seventy-Two while Diaana flogged Syal. After that they strapped the double ended dildo onto Seventy-Two, and had her fuck Syal with it while they flogged each of them.

By the time the Wrikkers' two hours were up, everyone had cum multiple times. It was too much for Syal. She had never undergone the intense ProCorps training that Seventy-Two had, or worked out at the level she did to keep in shape. Syal was visibly exhausted by the time they left.

Just a few minutes later, another Imperial Officer came in. Luckily he wasn't very interested in a worn-out bed mate. Seventy-Two enthusiastically fucked him while Syal watched and twenty minutes later, he left satisfied and happy. Lieutenant Junior Grade Bordaan however, insisted on fucking Syal.

Lieutenant Bordaan even cuffed Seventy-Two's hands behind her back, and leashed her tightly to one of the attachment points in the corner. Syal was willing, but she just wasn't in as good as shape as Seventy-Two. 

Lieutenant Bordaan complained loudly about her performance as he released Seventy-Two. Regulations were strict about releasing ProCorps troopers after using them. Seventy-Two apologized profusely, but he wouldn't hear it, and said he'd be filing a formal complaint.

As soon as he departed, Admiral Garowyn commed and summoned Syal to her quarters immediately. Seventy-Two happily handled another eighteen clients before the evening was over. Syal didn't return, but that didn't worry her. Nearly ten hours after she started, Seventy-Two crawled into bed, cuffed her hands behind her back, and went to sleep, still worried about Lieutenant Bordaan's complaint.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The End ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Remember, please vote me a five, and leave me feedback, public or via email. 



Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute Ch. 08



Authoress'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 read and enjoy all of my stories, and vote me a five! Also, please leave me feedback, public or via email.



Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute SX-51472



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 start-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 Academy, they had put 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.




Star Wars: Imperial Prostitute Ch. 08



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.