Characters: Tycho Celchu, Ysanne Isard
Type: Drama
Rating: X
Summary: Tycho in Iceheart's prison.
Archive: WookieeHut.com and Imperial Women. Do not archive without permission of the author.
Disclaimer: All content is made up, and no profit or lucre is expected, solicited, advocated or paid. This is all just for fun. Any comments, please e-mail the author directly. Flames will be ignored. Characters and situations are based on those which are the property of LucasFilms Ltd., Bantam Publishing, Random House, and their respective original owners and developers. The rest is this story's author's own fault. This story may not be posted anywhere without the author's knowledge, consent, and permission.
Feedback: theronderiggs@aol.com
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Sy Snootles for discussions and ideas.
Warning: Graphic non-consentual sex
Place: Lusankya
Time: About a year before X-Wing: Rogue Squadron
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The man only knew that he was a soldier, that he'd been trained to fight and kill. He didn't know for which side, but he knew he'd screwed up his last mission and was now facing the consequences. So now he was a prisoner. He could barely remember that he'd crashed his starfighter onto the planet's surface, but he wasn't sure what planet he was on or why. Oh, a starfighter -- I must be a pilot or a gunner ...
He'd remembered being interrogated and imprisoned. He was being held in sensory deprivation. At least, he hoped he was, because he couldn't feel anything -- not space, not time, no heat or cold, no light or dark, and he barely registered any emotion.
He hoped he wasn't dead. Then again, maybe he hoped he was.
When he was first brought to this terrible place, someone had promised him he wouldn't die. He did not know who made that promise, but it was all he had to sustain him. So he chose to believe that he was still alive.
He felt a motion on his groin. Right, he thought, it figures that of all the stupid things, my body has to choose my dick to feel anything. Well, then again, it wasn't completely inappropriate. His penis did have a mind of its own, after all. He recalled seeing corpses with rigid organs, as if death was a violent sexual release.
If he had to choose the one thing to feel before he died, an orgasm just might have been it. Well, then perhaps he was dying after all. At least, he was hallucinating that he was being stroked and caressed. He had to be hallucinating. It felt good to feel something, anyway. But why would he be feeling this?
He started to feel his toes, but not his feet. Something was tickling him. He wriggled his toes experimentally, and was delighted to feel something pressing against them, trying to immobilize them. Hey! No nerve damage in that direction!
Then his fingertips. For a brief moment, he thought he felt something move past them, but he couldn't grasp it. Then it came back, soft and smooth ... then away again. Then sensation brushed against him, clearly teasing him. It was agonizing, wondering if he really was feeling something, or it was just a hopeful fantasy ...
Lips next -- he was being kissed? Firmly, stubbornly. Ooh, lots of tongue. His bottom lip was bitten and pulled, sucked by something unknown. He tried to respond, but found that he couldn't move forward. Something was clamped around his neck, restricting him. Still, it meant he could feel his neck!
The rest of his body -- the points between these extremes -- was still numb, void of any feeling. He had no idea how long it had been since his cock first felt anything. Minutes? Hours? Actually, it might have been days. Maybe his brain had been addled and these episodes were taking place long times apart. He had heard about some forms of insanity which were like this, where reality was perceived only as single moments, separated by long stretches of unreality.
Alderaan's ashes, I hope I'm not insane.
He wondered why he'd chosen that planet's name to invoke, of the many he knew were out there. Funny, he couldn't remember the names of any others right now.
What was that feeling now? Wetness? Tickling? Cold? Heat? Suction? Wait... something was sucking on his toes, licking his instep ...
... then on his lips ...
... caressing his knees ...
... trailing his thighs ...
The man tried to arch his back, trying to hint to the mysterious suckler that his now rigid penis should be next ...
He groaned when the lips -- that's what they felt like -- started licking and mouthing on his hard member. He hoped this wasn't part of the punishment for his errors. And that if he was going to be executed, he be allowed to peak first ...
Something covered his mouth and rubbed itself on him. It felt smooth and slick. It tickled his nose, making him want to sneeze, but any urge to do so left him when he realized what it might be. He had the overwhelming urge to taste it. He opened his mouth and to his surprise, his tongue had sensation. His teeth nipped at some soft skin and it jumped toward his face.
He felt his testicles contract; good, he still had those. He'd need them for where he was heading. He'd get to feel if they still worked ...
He head a voice in his ear. "Yessss ...," it whispered. He could hear! Who's voice was that? Vaguely familiar, frighteningly erotic ...
His vision started to come to him, and his head started to throb slowly. He recognized that he was feeling gravity. Something was wrong, however. His feet were prickly and his head was throbbing, as if the blood in his body had been misallotted throughout his body. He realized that he was probably being held upsidedown. The person -- he could now see and sense it was a someone, rather than a something -- was standing before him. He was splayed and tied to a rotating, oscillating ring. Of course! As it spun, it reduced the effect of gravity on him. This person had stopped the spinning, gradually giving him back his sense of perception and reality.
He couldn't see who had done this for him. From the feeling in his mouth, he knew his rescuer was a woman. She tasted sweet, was quite hirsute, and the prisoner felt his nose slip into her slit. He breathed in her scent, happy to smell her. He heard -- or was it felt -- her moan and his balls contracted again.
She moved her legs further apart and hunched herself against his willing mouth. He opened his eyes, and noticed a polished, reflective wall opposite him. Held upside down as he was, his eyes cleared below her and he found that he could peer beneath her at the wall. The reflection showed the woman's body from behind: long legs and long, black hair. She was beautiful, well shaped, clad in a tight, shiny bodysuit, now unclasped at the bottom and drawn up, revealing tight, muscular buttocks. They clenched and relaxed rhythmically as he licked and sucked on her sex.
His reflection confirmed that he was indeed tied splayed to the ring, his limbs spread, and the woman was licking and sucking on him enthusiastically. Her head moved back and forth, up and down, juking and jinking. Her hands rubbed his lean thighs, down his chest. Her tongue swirled around his penis, causing him to twitch and gasp. Watching her movements, which matched the feelings on and in his body, sent him over the top. His orgasm was building, closer, closer ...
The sight of the clothing hanging by the door interrupted his progress, choking down the rush of sperm from his gonads. Crimson red, cut and colored to the Emperor's specifications, the man knew -- suddenly and without hesitation -- to whom the meticulously tailored suit belonged. At the same time, the woman twisted her head, chewing on him, making him twitch and scream. She turned her head to look down at his face, her movement causing her white forelock to be reflected on the shiny wall. The eyes, assymmetrically colored red and blue, glowed at him in triumph.
With this knowledge, he felt his mind spinning into eternity and blackness. His sensibilities unhooked themselves and floated away.
He started to remember .... This wasn't the first time.
And this time, he hoped he'd be lucky enough to die ...
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