Mission Briefing

Rating: NC-17

Category: slash, seduction, kinda PWP; POV (partially).

Characters: Isard/f

Summary: An Imperial Intelligence agent comes in Ysanne Isard's office for a mission briefing that becomes very intimate.

Disclaimer & stuff: I don't own Star Wars, Lucasfilm does. Isard is Stackpole's creation, of course; but Agent Tareen Lavana is my own original character – please don't use her for your own fics without my permission. This fic was partially (very loosely) inspired by the movie "From Russia with Love", which I don't own either. I make no money out of this and I don't mean to infringe. I'm just a fan writing for fun.

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

Tareen Lavana took and expelled a deep breath before she entered the office, hoping that it would drive the nervousness out of her system. Although she'd been working for Imperial Intelligence for quite some time, this was the first time that she'd been ordered to report to Director Isard herself for a mission briefing. So whatever it would be that she'd be assigned to do, it had to be important, Lavana had concluded.

An important mission, one where the security of the Empire was at stake… That thought alone would have been enough to drive her nervous. Lavana had always been afraid of failing at something important. She considered that a strength, not a weakness, though; because it acted as a spur to drive her on and make her work hard and smart to succeed. And her successes were successes for the Empire, for it was the Empire she served; and she was proud to serve it, being devoted to the New Order with every fiber of her being.

But it was not just the apprehension she felt in regards with her upcoming mission that caused her hands to shake now, it was also the prospect of having to face Ysanne Isard. The Director of Imperial Intelligence had a reputation among her subordinates that was only slightly better than the one she had among the Rebels. "Icy", "arrogant", "easily angered" were the adjectives that were commonly used to describe her – only in hushed tones, of course. But she was also said to be an impressive person; intelligent and determined, and strikingly beautiful on top of that.

"Agent Lavana? Come in."

Tareen followed Isard's request, which was accompanied by a graceful gesture of her perfectly manicured hand and a polite smile that failed to project any warmth whatsoever, and stepped into the Director's spacious, elegant office.

On having her first closer look at Ysanne Isard, Tareen Lavana decided that those who called her beautiful hadn't exaggerated. Director Isard looked positively stunning with her tall and slim body clad in a pristine crimson uniform; her striking, aristocratic features; and her shiny hair that was blacker than night except for two snow-white streaks that framed her face.

But what most impressed Lavana was the look in Isard's eyes, the right one of which was a blue glacier, while the left one was searing, blood-red fire with flashing golden sparks. The gaze from those eyes was hard, dissecting almost; it spoke of Isard's power and determination, of merciless ice and hidden fire. Tareen had always had a secret weakness for hard, strong women – or men, for that matter. Those who were powerful and cruel could attract her like fire did a moth; which perhaps partially explained her devotion to the Empire. Don't fall for her, she's your boss, she admonished herself.

Isard let her eyes slide over Lavana, as if making a quick, but systematic evaluation. "Take off your jacket," she commanded. Tareen obeyed. "Now turn around. Slowly." Isard took in the sight of Lavana's youthful form with a gaze of which the other couldn't tell whether it was leering or just intensely observant. Though not as tall as Ysanne herself, Agent Lavana was just as slim and well-shaped, and nature had gifted her with long blonde hair, bright green eyes, and a charming face.

"Good, good," the Director of Intelligence commented. "I have no doubt you are the right person for this job."

Clasping her hands at the small off her back, Lavana assumed a stance that more or less resembled standing at attention, trying to look professional despite her slightly trembling hands and increased heart rate. "Thank you for your kindness, Madam Director," she said. "How may I be of service?"

Isard raised one black eyebrow. "I haven't been kind yet. But I will be if you execute your mission to my satisfaction."

"May I ask what that mission will encompass?"

"You may. We believe that the Rebels are going to…" Isard commenced explaining. While she gave all the necessary details to Lavana, the younger woman listened as attentively as she could, for she quickly found out that she had been right – what she would be sent to do was important. Nevertheless, she found herself being distracted again and again by the sight of those fire-and-ice eyes. Isard's gaze was hard to bear, but also hard to turn away from; it seemed to bind her and pierce her very soul.

Tareen almost entered some kind of trance; of which she only became aware when she was shaken out of it by Isard's asking, "So do you understand how important this is?"

"Yes, Madam Director."

Isard granted her the closest thing to an encouraging smile that she was capable of. "Good. You are very fortunate to be allowed to serve the Empire in this way. Very fortunate indeed." She stepped closer to the other woman. Then her smile took on a playful, slightly mischievous quality as she asked, "Do you mind if I take off my jacket as well? It's a bit hot today."

"Mine is not to mind, Madam Director," Tareen said demurely, slightly baffled by her superior's asking her permission for something, even if it was just a polite formality. Then her bewilderment skyrocketed as Ysanne Isard pulled off her jacket and revealed that she wore nothing but a red, lacy bra underneath. She forced herself not to stare at the Director's full, well-shaped breasts. She's your boss. It's not proper to gape at your boss, no matter what she's doing or how little she's wearing.

So she kept her eyes to the floor, but Isard came even closer and lifted Lavana's head by putting a finger under her chin, forcing the other to look into her eyes that were intoxicatingly enticing with the feral glimmer that gleamed in them. "Nah, nah, why so shy?"

Tareen began to wonder whether this was all a test. But a test of what? Of loyalty? Obedience? Of her ability to resist temptation?

Isard's finger slid around Tareen's jaw line in a tempting caress; but her eyes, the red as well as the blue one, refused to tell the young woman anything. "If I told you what I expect of you, would it still be a test?" she said with a half-smile, having read the other's thoughts in her face.

So it is a test? Tareen gazed into those bedazzling, puzzling mismatched eyes. She swallowed once. "Madam Director…"

The other silenced her by putting a finger on her lips and purred, "While we're in here, call me Ysanne."

She took the finger away from Tareen's mouth, using it to sensuously caress her ear instead.

"Ysanne." Tareen tasted the name on her tongue like fine wine, like a sweet intoxicant. She couldn't have resisted now even if she would have wanted to; so she took the gift of the name as the invitation it was and covered the black haired woman's mouth with her own.

The other kissed her back with unabashed abandon, demonstrating a remarkable expertise at tongue-play. When they finally had to come up for air, Tareen was flushed and panting, and obviously worked up. Ysanne quickly freed her from her shirt and bra; then wrapped her hands around her firm, youthful breasts, letting her thumbs play with Tareen's nipples which instantly hardened.

Wanting to repay the favor, the other squeezed Isard's breasts, then freed them from their lacy confinement. Ysanne's breasts were bigger than they had looked inside the bra, and firm despite her age. Tareen marveled at the other's smooth skin which looked very attractive now that it glistened with sweat, and her big, rock-hard nipples. The sight was an invitation itself. Not finding it enough to enjoy it with her eyes, Tareen licked off the sweat and let her tongue and lips play with Isard's nipples. Ysanne was clearly revved up, as well, and she dug her fingers hard into Tareen's shoulders, purring and moaning with pleasure.

Lavana was thrilled by having brought the other to the edge of losing control. Gods, this could get me addicted. She came up higher, letting her tongue explore the small hollow over Ysanne's collarbones, her delicate neck, her tilted-back chin. When her face was over Ysanne's again, she saw her eyes glowing with pleasure; and then she saw only her left eye, the one that was hungry fire with shining golden sparks.

They call you Iceheart, but you're no ice now. You're all fire to me. Fire that enchains me, devours me, and yet it's not a pain. It's a pleasure that makes me greedy, so greedy for more. I want to lose myself in your fire. I want all of you. Ysanne. Ysanne!

They kissed again, with even more fervor than the first time. Then Isard sat down on the edge of her desk and pulled off her boots. Lavana took this as the signal to slip out of her own shoes; then knelt down before Ysanne to massage and kiss her feet, sucking on her toes and letting her tongue explore the spaces in between. She seemed to hit some pretty sensitive spots along the way, for Isard squirmed and squealed with pleasure.

Then Ysanne got off from the desk and got the other to sit down. She pulled down Tareen's pants and panties and parted her knees with her hands; then licked the inside of her thighs, coming up slowly, slowly. When she had almost reached the other's crotch, she disappointed her expectation, going for Tareen's stomach instead, letting her tongue paint slow, teasing patterns on it, sometimes dipping into her bellybutton.

She continued like that, circling the place where Tareen wanted her to go without ever reaching there; gently, but determinedly pulling away every time the other got hold of her black hair to direct her head to her crotch. Soon, she had Tareen squirming with near unbearable tension.

"I'm still the boss, you see?" she said with a wicked smile.

There is no doubt that you are. You are cruel, Ysanne. Wicked. You have me under your control. You're making me crazy for you. Right now, I would sell my soul for you. Oh, Ysanne!

Isard lifted her head. Her eyes, enticing fire and cruel ice, sparkled at Tareen as she said, "You want it, bitch? Then beg for it!"

"Ysanne… Madam Director… please lick my pussy."

Isard let out a low chuckle. "Louder! And say it like you mean it."

A tongue was drawn over Tareen's thigh again in a far-too-short tease, driving her crazy. "Madam Director… please… please, please lick my pussy, your Excellency."

This time, the tongue swiftly brushed her clean shaven mound. Then the mismatched eyes sparkled at her again, still not satisfied.

"Pleaaase Ysanne, I'll do anything you want."

I'm all yours, Ysanne. Please! Oh, please!

She raises an eyebrow. "Anything?"

"Anything. Anything, my Empress."

She lets out another laugh. "Empress? I like that title!" Finally, she's willing to go down on me. As she dives between my legs, I wonder briefly whether this is how she turns the prisoners at Lusankya. Probably not. She wouldn't want herself to be touched by Rebel scum. But it would be very effective. As her tongue explores my slit, I become entirely willing to be her slave for life. My hands dig into her hair of raven silk, I wrap my legs around her shoulders. I want to hold on to her, I want to have her forever. Ysanne, my Ysanne; my gorgeous she-panther, my cruel and wonderful mistress, my all-I-want who is expertly licking out my honey pot, nuzzling at my clit…

"Ysaaaaaaaanne!" This time, the name is a scream. I feel the stars explode around me as I come.

Tareen shuddered in her release. It took her a long time to come down. Isard's hand wiped the tears of ecstasy that Tareen didn't remember shedding from the young woman's cheek; then covered Lavana's body with her own, making her taste a sample of her own juices as she kissed her.

Her lips are warm and good. I want her so much that I wish I could crawl inside of her. Then she pulls away abruptly and backhands me violently. "That's for pulling my hair." Even being hit by her feels sweet. She stands up again and strips off her pants and knickers. "Now show me what you've learned, Agent Lavana."

Ysanne wouldn't have had to tell me to. I'm more than eager to taste her, to explore her as she's explored me. She's not shaven like I am. Her pubic hair is as black and shiny as the hair on her head. I run my fingers through it, then my tongue. Gently, I part her petals with my fingers and let the tip of my tongue taste her wetness. She tastes and smells sweet and spicy at the same time. Like nothing else in the world. Like pussy.

Giving her pleasure is even sweeter than receiving it was. I enjoy making her moan, seeing how wild I can get her. Her hands dig in my shoulders until her fingernails draw blood. My Ysanne. As she comes, it's like a volcanic eruption and more. My Ysanne, my Iceheart who has enough fire to melt all the ice in the galaxy.

Slowly, I pull my head out from between her legs, then hold her in my arms. I know it's a precious moment. I know I can't expect to get this again, so I want to make it last. She's still the Director of Imperial Intelligence, I'm still just a servant to do her bidding; but for now, I have her here in my arms, here with me.

Soon, too soon she wants to get up. She says to me, "I suppose you want to take a shower now?" Only then do I see that her office has a door in one of the side walls, and a small 'fresher behind it. We shower together, and I allow my soapy hands to slip around and inside of her as often as I can manage.

Then that is over, too. She steps out of the shower and tosses me a towel, then takes another towel to dry herself. She takes some fresh underwear from a drawer, as well as a fresh, neatly pressed red uniform. Apparently, this woman is prepared for everything. But it is only as she meticulously combs her hair that I realize that she's going to pretend that this never happened. I've worked for Imperial Intelligence long enough to know the meaning of words like "classified" and "on a need to know basis". It seems like she doesn't think that anyone needs to know about what we just had.

"While we're in here, call me Ysanne." Not when I step outside, and not even now anymore. She's Madam Director to me once again, this much I know when I see her neat hair and spotless uniform. Her eyes are elusive ice, like before, like always. But I haven't expected her to love me anyhow. She's too high above me.

I get dressed. Then Ysanne – Director Isard – takes a diamond-crested hairpin from her drawer and gingerly sticks it into my hair. "Careful with this one," she warns me. "It doubles as a poison needle. You just ram it in and press on the top." So it is a tool for my work as well as a gift. A poison needle with a diamond on top, beautiful and deadly, just like Ysanne herself. I haven't expected her to love me. It's enough for me that I got what I got; enough that for once, I've seen the fire in the ice. I'm still willing to do anything for her, and perhaps that was her objective all along.

I don't know. And I still don't know whether this was a test; but I guess I must have passed it, for she allowed me to live. But one thing I know for sure as she dismisses me with a gesture as graceful as the one she used to welcome me – it's never dull working for the Ubiqtorate.

~*~FIN~*~