Shaak Ti hesitated at the door, her fingers dancing across the panel. "This… feels like treason," she breathed, as the door closed behind them. Her head-tails quivered with agitation.
Vader carefully removed his helmet, exposing the devastation within. "Treason implies loyalty to a Republic that was long since festering with decay," he rasped, his voice low, but strangely more personable without his mask. He took a step closer, his boots heavy on the floor. "You sense their deceptions. I can see it in your eyes."
She winced as he stroked her cheek with a gloved finger, tracing the line of her head-tail. She gasped. "The Council… they trusted me." To her own ears, she sounded hollow. He radiated heat, intense, and yet, somehow unnatural, and it pressed down upon her resolve.
"Trust is a chain," he grated, his natural eyes locking onto hers. "Break it." His other hand came to rest at the small of her back, and pulled her against the chill plate of his chest. She didn't resist. His scent was of ozone, and scorched metal, heady in the otherwise antiseptic stillness of the fortress.
Their lips met – hers submissive, his, commanding. It was less a kiss, than a branding, desperate, and possessive. Shaak Ti tasted ozone, and metal, underscored by his dark side aura. His durasteel embrace tightened, drawing her closer, until the plates of his armor bit into her. A low rumble emanated from his chest, a growl deeper than his vocoded voice. He was consumed by lust – for Shu'ulk'Tarath, and for a desire long denied.
He pushed her away, abruptly. "Kneel." The word vibrated through her head-tails. The cold floor bit at her knees, as she complied. His codpiece hissed apart, revealing his reddened member. Musk, ozone, and dark side energy filled her nostrils. His gloved hand buried itself in her head-tresses, and pulled her forward. "Suck."
She hesitated. A sharp yank on her tail erased her uncertainty. She engulfed him awkwardly, her jaw stretching to accommodate his girth. Salt, iron, and corruption filled her mouth. His hand in her tresses tightened, establishing a rhythm, until she gagged. His grunt, unshielded by his vocoder, sent a thrill of forbidden pleasure through her.
She quickly learned, her tongue tracing the veins of his cock, as he set the pace. His pre-cum tasted of ozone. His vocoder stuttered, as he made wordless noises of pleasure.
Her body betrayed her. A warmth spread through her loins, as her free hand delved beneath her robes. Her fingers discovered her wetness, and rubbed desperate circles around her clitoris. Muffled moans escaped her throat, mouthfuls of Vader.
"Pathetic," he croaked, vocoder heavy with derision and lust. He grasped her lekku again, yanking her closer. "A Jedi Master, fucking like a beast." His contempt made her blaze hotter, her hand quickening.
He grunted harshly as he came, salty and acid, into her mouth. She swallowed desperately - salt, filth, Dark Side. He kept her until he was done, then threw her to the floor.
"On your feet," Vader snarled and pulled her up by the arm. He pushed her in the direction of the durasteel bed frame. "Get on your hands and knees." She climbed on the bed, where the thin robes did little to hide anything. He followed, his armor clanking against her legs, his dark looming presence surrounding her.
He didn't wait. That fat cock was pressed against Shaak Ti's virginal hole, moist but unyielding. A squeal was forced out of Shaak Ti as he forcefully thrust inside, a tearing penetration. A surge of pain shot through Shaak Ti, her fists clenched against the covers as her hymen was brutally breached. He pulled back a bit and then plunged in, rubbing against Shaak Ti's cervix. The pain faded to an embarrassing throb.
"You feel that?" Vader wheezed, his fingers digging into her hips as he dragged her down to meet every violent thrust. "You feel how you are stretching? How your treacherous body is welcoming this?" He rammed his hips forward again, the wet crack of their flesh meeting filling the room. "You mourn the Order, and yet your cunt clenches around me like a fist." He growled the words. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you want your conqueror inside you."
"Ahhh—ahhh!" Shaak Ti sobbed, it came out more like a moan. The pain dissipated into the fear of the emptiness and the feeling of it being filled. "I...I..." she tried to deny it, but he thrust into her cervix and made her feel her womb compress and open wider. "Yes!" she moaned.
Vader's hand connected with a loud crack on her buttock. "Does my marking ooze over your thighs?" He caressed down her thigh, her juice mingled with his cum. "Weak Jedi. Drenching yourself for your Master."
Shaak Ti shook, laying with her face in the pillow. She was more embarrassed than she was sore, but she couldn't control her reaction. She moaned as Vader pulled mostly out of her and then drove back in, his strokes rubbing something inside her that she couldn't stand. She thrust her hips back, begging to be filled.
His fingers clamped around her hips, digging into the soft flesh as the back of his mask emitted a harsh growl—undone and unrefined. He quickened his tempo to a haphazard pace as his exclamation followed: "Take it. Take all of it!" With his deep plunge he pressed himself against her cervix and his cock churned his climax into her. Shaak Ti's body bent, forced backwards, as hot seed flowed inside.
He slowly pulled out, causing a convulsive intake of breath from her lips. Vader remained on top of her, still standing over her shivering body. He stared at the wetness that was currently draining out of her vagina, mixed with his semen and soaking the mattress. "Look at yourself," he ordered, opening her wider. "Mine."
The slap of his palm against her buttocks was loud, his fingers leaving a red outline behind. Shaak Ti's cry was muted as she bucked forward, Vader's finger tracing the area he had struck. "Marked." He hissed as her hips sought the sting of the slap. "Inside and out."
**
Shaak Ti's body went limp against the chest plate of Vader's suit. She was breathing heavily, her forehead against his breastplate as she drifted off to sleep. The only sounds were those of their breathing, the hum of the fortress and the tang of their sex. Vader looked down at her, her lekku shaking, the trail of tears on her cheek and the red marks on her buttocks. His. Something shifted in his chest, the fires of Shu'ulk'Tarath banked as a sense of satisfaction took over. She had surrendered to him. His thumb reached out, touching the bruise on her shoulder with a startling gentleness.
He stood there, holding her as she slept. The only sound in the fortress was that of the hum of machinery and the soft hiss of his life-support systems. She had burrowed her head into the join of his shoulder and arm, hiding from her reality in sleep. Vader looked down, not with affection or compassion but a cold certainty. She was broken. Body and spirit. This was the culmination of the trials of Shu'ulk'Tarath. Absolute power.
With a slow deliberation, he released his hold on her. Shaak Ti slumped forward, a sleepy sigh escaping her as she fell onto the soiled mattress. Vader straightened, his movements causing the floor to groan beneath his feet. He looked down at the results of his dominance. Torn robes, trails of sex drying on his armor and his hand prints blooming on her skin. The codpiece at his groin slid shut and sealed with a hiss, enclosing the source of her violation. There was only silence where moments before there had been ragged breathing and grunted orders.
He reached for his helmet, the dark surface reflecting the faint light of the room back at him. It clanked and hissed as it slid over his scarred features, the vocoder taking a deep 'breath' as it activated, drowning out the sound of his own breathing. His universe narrowed to the red glow of his helmet's interior. Shaak Ti's musk, the warmth of her body, the satisfaction of his dominance, all lost behind the metal and machinery that was his helmet. He was Darth Vader once more.
He turned and strode from her quarters, not looking back. The door closed behind him, leaving Shaak Ti to whatever was left of her. His footfalls echoed through the corridors, only the sound of his respirator filling the emptiness. But he could still feel her. The give of her flesh beneath his armor, the sounds she had made for him, the warmth of her skin still on his own. The helmet gave him his distance, the objectivity he needed. Yet behind it, he could still taste her. Salt and fear. And something else he could not seem to forget.
Vader descended to the command pit. Holoprojectors' blue glow illuminated his suit, casting his dark shadow on the walls. He stopped in front of the console, not moving, not making any sound other than his breathing. Then he let the guard down. Shu'ulk'Tarath. The name echoed within his mind, heavy, rough. And immediately, burning in his eyes, a black noose around his thoughts.
Approval swatted him, thick and stifling, like hot grease poured over his brain. 'You have done well, my vessel.' The voice shook his skeleton, old, alien. 'You took the body. You crushed the will. Shaak Ti is a worthy trophy.' The pressure tightened, drawing out memories of her touch, of her desperate breath, of her warmth going away. 'Because she is proof. Proof of loyalty. Proof of power. Proof you have accepted the gift I give.'
Heat welled up in his chest, hotter than lava flows of Mustafar. It was not pain; it was mending. His burnt flesh moved, closing, spreading, like wax poured into broken rock. His vocoder crackled with a sob as his tendons crackled back to life, as his cartilages grew anew. Strength flowed into his muscles, no longer borrowed, but his own; new, familiar, frightening. He stumbled backwards, grasping for the console as he crushed the metal. His respirator sputtered and wheezed, then drew a full breath into the lungs that had not breathed in years. He ripped the helmet off. Cold air hit new skin. In the dark glass, he saw the impossible thing: Anakin's face, unblemished, sharp, black hair around, black eyes shining like black. Not yellow, Sith yellow. Black as the space, black as Shu'ulk'Tarath, the eyes staring back at him.
Power quivered in his body, not weakness, but release. He spread his hands—both hands, new, his right one new again. There was no pain of old, only a quiver of life in his limbs. He was whole. He was young. Not unmarked, though. The hair, the eyes—not a speck of Anakin's blue, not a hint of Vader's sickly yellow. Only the sign of the entity, black like the void, and pulsing with an unlife. Its pleasure curled within him, a steady warmth, a devouring flame. 'This vessel is worthy,' it hissed, voice curling around his skull. 'Wear my mark.'