Consider joining my Patreon[1] or my Discord[2]!
Plenty of benefits to be had in both places, including extra content and early access!
########################################################
Satele supposed that she should have expected this, the moment that she saw Vestara Khai on the other end of the holocall. It had been a surprise, of course, and she'd found it harder than she'd ever have imagined to restrain herself, to keep from giving away the fact that she knew this young woman, that she was eternally grateful to her on a level that very few people in the galaxy could ever imagine. From what Satele knew of her, she -though capable- was certainly not someone that a man like Kilran would have tapped for so daring a mission as capturing or killing a defector under Satele's personal protection.
But between Vestara's words and actions, and some good, old-fashioned logical deduction, a picture had been easily painted.
Kilran had sent whomever he had on hand. A routine transport in the area, likely running between the Imperial Fleet and Dromund Kaas itself, that he had threatened into compliance after she had crippled the squadron of Terminus and Harrower's that had been sent to do the deed in the first place. Which was almost certain to reignite the war, or at the very least, lead to some brutal retributive clandestine actions across Republic space, and was exactly why she would have spoken against this insane plan from the outset. Accepting a defector was all well and good, but personally sending a Republic battlefleet to retrieve him, with orders to destroy any Imperial ships that tried to interfere?
Madness.
And now that madness had turned out to be for nothing, because Kilran's equally-insane, last-ditch gambit had succeeded. The proof was in her flagships morgue, and sitting right in front of her in adjacent infirmary beds.
"I'm sorry, Grand Master. We failed you and the Senate." Yadira, young, sweet, entirely-unprepared for a mission of this significance Yadira, bowed as deeply and contritely as she could from her seated position, and Satele gently pressed her back into a recline as she sensed the pain that simple motion sent pounding through the Padawan's body. Force, it should have been a Knight, at least, if they were going to send a Jedi to personally guard such a high-value target! Yadira was lucky that a fresh Apprentice had been her opponent, not an experienced Lord, and an Apprentice whose nature had driven her to preserve the lives of (some of) her enemies. Instead, she was 'merely' covered with burn marks from lightning and saber both, and badly bruised from punches and hard impacts with the deck alike. She looked, in short, a mess, and the only reason she wasn't fully immersed in bacta is because she'd been pulled out of it for a check-up and to let her skin breath.
"The fault wasn't yours, Yadira. You didn't expect to fight, certainly not without an abundance of support, and you certainly didn't expect to be confronted by the sort of people that you were confronted by. You were outmatched, and there is no shame in that, because there is always someone better. But you managed to survive in spite of that, and that is something to be proud of."
"We're alive because that Sith girl wanted us alive, Master Shan." Ghuili said bluntly from his own bed, the massive Mon Cal even more brutally injured than Yadira was. Not only did he share many of the same bruises and cuts that the far smaller twi'lek girl possessed, but he had been fighting an opponent far less inclined to be gentle than Vestara Khai apparently was. Though the titanic beast known as Khem Val had obeyed Khai and spared Ghuili's life, the commander had lost both of his hands at the wrist. "If it wasn't for that fact, we would be dead. That beast is terrifying, Master. You need to send out a warning of some kind about him, a flee on sight if you must. He was holding back our entire fight, and still I ended up like this after giving it everything that I had. I was nothing compared to him."
"I've already been composing one, but you don't give yourself anywhere near enough credit. I've watched the footage personally. If you were a Jedi, Commander, you would easily be able to claim the position of Temple Battlemaster for your skills with a blade." Satele reassured him, unoffended when he made the Mon Cal equivalent of a scoff in response, only holding up a hand and smiling faintly. "I mean it, Commander. I'm not blowing smoke up your greaves. Dashade aren't common, so I took the liberty of doing some research based on what security readings survived and your own initial After-Action Report. Your opponent wasn't exaggerating when he said that he'd been around for a thousand years. In fact, he was understating it. Khem Val, according to the records of the Jedi Order, was the personal guard and battle-companion of Tulak Hord himself, which means Khem Val is at least two thousand years old, and quite possibly older than that. He personally killed one-thousand Jedi at the battles of Yn and Chabosh. Your survival is a testament, yes, to the merciful order of Vestara Khai. But I wouldn't discount yourself so quickly."
Satele would have liked to believe it was comfort, what she tried to give, and maybe some of it hit home, but Ghuili still stared at his stumps —bandaged to the elbow, at least for now, soaking in bacta even during this short break from the immersion tank— with his entire being radiating a complex blend of loss and stubborn dignity.
He was contemplating the future, or the lack of it. She could sense it through the bond that sometimes formed in moments of violence, veteran to veteran. Nothing so poetic as the Force, perhaps, but something almost as heavy and real. A sense that she was more than familiar with, having been there from the very moment that the Empire returned to the galaxy at large.
"If you want, I will arrange for the best prosthesis team on Coruscant, Commander." she offered, not as a platitude but a promise, one that she had more than sufficient power and influence to ensure took place. She might not be able to gurantee good replacement limbs for every man and woman that served her star-nation, but she could do it for this man, and she would. "You may be a wounded soldier, but you are not a crippled one. Not a broken one. If you wish to retire, I'll see to it personally, but if you wish to continue to serve, service is yours."
There was a slow, quiet nod from Ghuili at that, a flicker of gratitude and consideration going through his aura, though she could see and sense that he hadn't come to a decision yet, hadn't even really started to consider it yet. "Thank you, Grand Master. I just wish I'd managed to…do better, somehow. Interfere enough that Padawan Ban could have gotten the General to safety at least."
"It wasn't your fault, Commander. I decided that we would confront the Sith and her servants together, rather than separately as you proposed. If I hadn't done that, I could have gotten The General safely into an escape pod…" Yadira sighed, plucking at her blanket, a metaphysical cloud looming over her head, and Satele reached out to squeeze her hand gently.
"Or, just as likely, the dashade would have been left to keep the Commander busy while the rest of the boarders chased you and The General down just the same. There is nothing to be gained by second guessing yourself, and it certainly will not help your recovery. You did everything that could be done under the circumstances and paid a harsh price for your efforts. You deserve rest, both of you, not more stress." she pointed out firmly, if softly, and the words seemed to ease something in Yadira's shoulders. The padawan nodded once, stiffly, and let her head sink back into the crisp, chilly white of the hospital pillow. Gently clapping the Commander's shoulder, Satele got to her feet and left them to their recovery. She had considered asking them for their side of things, asking them to go over the memories so that she could glean greater insight through the Force, but neither of them was in any shape to dwell deeper on the matter at the moment, and it wasn't as though she didn't have a pile of AAR reports and all the internal security footage to work from.
First and foremost, she thought to herself as she made her way back to her quarters, it was quite obvious to her that Vestara was still fairly untrained, her movements a mix of smoothly skilled and rough talent. Certainly capable of beating Yadira in a fight, but not what Satele would call a crushing victory, even accounting for the fact that the young Sith was clearly holding back in an effort to keep Yadira alive. That wasn't all that surprising though, to her mind. Vestara was a former slave, one without the typical pre-Korriban training a 'proper' Sith would have received, and her Korriban training had doubtlessly been less-than-thorough as well.
In fact, from the looks of things, most of Khai's entire group was still fairly inexperienced. Competent, certainly, but outside of Khem Val and the Imperial Marines, they were obviously not experienced in fighting professional soldiers or working as a team. If the crew of the Brentaal Star hadn't been so drastically reduced for the sake of secrecy, the attack would have likely failed and The General would likely still be a live. Something she would take an ironic sort of pleasure from pointing out to the Senate subcommittee that would inevitably demand that she explain herself, as if this entire debacle was something she, somehow, was personally responsible for.
The Senate would want their finger-pointing, of course, and never mind that she'd argued against this way of doing things from start to finish. Force, she could almost smell the grilling, already feel the sanctimonious windbags conjuring failure out of the thin air of their own desire to be aggrieved over something that was their own damn fault. She'd have to spend hours —days, if they were particularly vindictive— answering the same handful of questions in a hundred subtly shifted forms: Why had The General died? Why had the defector not made it, despite all possible precautions? Why had she, Satele Shan, allowed the Empire to get so close?
Why had she, after warning the Defense Committee that displacing so many assets and drawing so much attention was a mistake, not performed a miracle? Why had she not overruled the civilian command structure or, better yet, intercepted a warship in real space and repelled a boarding action personally after fighting off an Imperial battlefleet without kick-starting a way?
It was exactly that sort of nonsense -and the Sacking of Coruscant, she was forced to admit, remembering all too well the pain of walking the ruined halls of the Great Temple and seeing the broken bodies of life-long friends lying beneath make-shit shrouds- that had led her to relocating the majority of the Jedi Order to Tython and distancing it somewhat from the control and oversight of the Senate. They had forgotten, for a time, that the Jedi served the people of the Republic, not the members of the Senate, and sadly she couldn't say that they were one and the same thing any longer. Though, of course, there were exceptions. She could always rely on Alderaan, for example.
At any rate, she quite frankly had bigger problems to worry about right now. Such as the fact that this entire debacle had pulled her away from investigating some of the leads that Khai had given her in the datapad she'd sent along with Fay, leads that implied the Jedi Order was in grave danger from within and without alike. Leads that Khai had only been able to give her the vaguest hints about, her foresight as excruciatingly limited in some respects as it was profoundly deep in others. Warnings about a plague of some sort, and buried personalities inside of her fellow Jedi and, most prominently and immediately problematic, the secret force of Sith and Imperials busy getting ready to loot and destroy the Temple Undercroft, dealing severe damage to the already-reeling Order.
She needed to get a handle on things, and quickly. Fortunately, there were two young Padawans who had shown themselves to be quite capable of late. In fact, they should be on their way from Tython to Coruscant this very moment…
############################################################################################################
Yashia shuddered, trapped between me and the mattress, her arms pinned beneath the spread legs of -and her fingers buried in their soaked cunts- Brukkara (Vaenia, her name was Vaenia) and Kory, as she looked down with something akin to trepidation at the long, thick shaft that I had just slapped down onto her stomach. Not that I gave her much time to panic over it, though panic was likely to strong a word, as I pulled back, guided my cockhead to her slicked opening, and filled her in one, long, merciless push. The sound that poured out of her throat in response was nothing short of exquisite, and I hissed a low, fervent, passionate curse as her sheath wrapped around me. She was incredibly tight, either from limited experience or from her fit athleticism, I didn't know, but it felt incredible all the same. Different from my other girls, even the also-fit Nicky, in a way that only made me want her more.
"A-ah! Mistress!" she whimpered, writhing underneath me, or at least trying to. With her arms held down by two pussies and the owners of said pussies holding her legs spread wide and half-folded against her side, the amount of movement she could actually make was limited to say the least. Which is exactly the way both of us wanted it. Much like Kory and Kela and Nicky, when she was being dominated by someone that wasn't a babbling maniac intent on torture-raping her to death, being a masochistic sub was something she very much seemed to enjoy. Groaning wordlessly as I ground down against her, she arched her back and rippled around me as she tried to wrap her mind around just how full she now was.
"That's it, there you go baby." I crooned, reaching down to rub my hands along the length of her muscular stomach, up to brush against the underside of her breasts, then back down again. I timed cock's my slow withdrawal with the descent of my hands, pressing my thumbs against either side of her clit when only it's very tip still rested inside of her, before pushing them together sharply -pinching the nerve-filled-bug hard- in the instant before I thrust into her again.
Yashia howled in response, the sound honest, animalistic, with nothing held back. Her muscle-bound body bucked sharply, violently, arms trembling under the gentle but unyielding weight of our lovers, both moaning softly as they moved their hips, grinding insistently into Yashia's helpless fingers as I set a steady, punishing pace.
"Fuck, Mistress, I think you're going to break her~!" Kory gasped, her knuckles digging into Yashia's calf as she watched intently with lust-clouded eyes. The mix of terror and reverence in her voice was itself a kind of devotion, and I let her feel it —let all of them feel it— through the rolling waves of pleasure that came with each brutal thrust. God, I'd never get tired of feeling my lovers' pleasure in the Force, never get tired of sharing it with them as best I could, of the way we would bleed into one another. "Mmmh, I want to see it! I want to see you break this tough and buff soldier girl on your fucking cock!"
"You've got a filthy mouth tonight, huh?" I chuckled, wrapping a hand around Yashia's throat and squeezing, enjoy the way she tightened on me in response as her squeals and pleas consequently grew hoarser. Not entirely satisfied just with that, and remembering how well my Yashia responded to properly applied pain, I lashed out with my free hand to slap each of her breasts twice in turn. She arched again, throat bobbing and shifting underneath my grip as she tried and failed -oh so sweetly, deliciously failed- to keep her voice to herself. "God, you feel so good, Yashia. You're so tight for me, so wet for me. Did fighting the good fight get your horny, baby?"
I could sense her embarrassment at the question, not that I was going to judge her for whatever her answer was. God knew that the adrenaline, the intensity, the channeling of that much Force power, and quite frankly the victory, had all been intoxicating. I'd been sporting half an erection the entire escape, and I'd made a b-line to my quarters with my girls in tow the minute that we'd made it safely back aboard the waiting Black Talon.
"Maybe…?" she finally choked out in response, her voice plaintive and broken by a fresh surge of pleasure. Her eyes met mine, bright with desire, fiercely grateful for what she was receiving and eagerly pleading for more at once. She was utterly gorgeous in that moment, more beautiful than anyone incapable of looking beyond her 'normal', 'plain' exterior could probably have imagined, the fools. I savored the moment, savored the way her muscles fluttered and squeezed around me with every sharp impact, every delving thrust. She wanted me to claim her, dominate her, leave a mark for all the world to see. She wanted to feel it tomorrow, wanted people to look at her as we made our way across Dromuund Kaas and know that she had a mistress that used her thoroughly and well.
I wanted that too, just as desperately as she did.
I bent closer and pressed my forehead to Yashia's, twisted her neck to the side, and rammed my hips forward until my cock was fully seated. The friction~! Oh, fuck, so much heat and clenching tension, and the sound Yashia made was half-broken and desperate as I sank my teeth into the side of her neck, the coppery taste of her blood on my lips, the spike of shock and pain and pleasure hammering through all three of my girls, and as Yashia came apart around me I flooded her womb.
Not that I stopped thrusting entirely. I couldn't stop, not when she was milking me for every drop I could give her with every pulsing spasm of her cunt, every desperate, short buck of her hips as she sought to extend the pleasure as much as I was. Not with my other girls cumming on her fingers, rolling their hips as they gasped and moaned, heads falling back on their shoulders and sweat-slicked breasts heaving with every breath that they took. Not when every sound, ever scent, every sensation was an intoxicating, miasmic piece of proof that we were alive and together and whole.
It was only when the last spurt finished crossing from my body to hers that I slumped forward, her arms wrapping around me as Kory and Vaenia shifted out of the way, my more experienced lover helping me roll onto my back with my still-impaled soldier still impaled on my shaft, leaving Yashia sprawled across my chest as she tried to steady her breathing. My fingers ghosted up and down her spine, stroking and petting and comforting, as she came down from the sexual high, our partners pressing themselves against our mutual sides in a warmth that was softer, though no less emotionally charged, than the one we had just been sharing. Time drifted away, all of us falling into a comfortable and intimate sort of trance, and I had no idea how long we stayed like that before Vaenia shifted against my left, a thread of regret and disappointment winding through her presence in the Force.
"My Lord, we'll be reaching Dromuund Kaas soon." she murmured softly, a nearly-audible almost-pout making me smile slightly involuntarily before I nodded with a soft sigh.
"Thank you, plaything." I acknowledged, patting Yashia's hip softly and shifting beneath her, getting a whine of protest as she tried to cling a bit closer to me. "Come on baby, the fun's over for now. Why don't you and Kory get dressed and start cleaning up the room a little? Make sure we don't leave anything behind. Vaenia's going to clean me up a bit and then we'll join you."
"Yes, Mistress." two voices chorused together, a far softer and more nervous. 'Yes, My Lord' coming from my cute little Ensign, and I flashed her a reassurign smile as Yashia and Kory rose on unsteady legs to carry out my instructions.
"Now, you said you've done this before, plaything?" I asked, meeting her eyes and thinking about previous conversations, and she nodded shyly. I couldn't help but think, again, how strange it was that someone hadn't fucked someone this soft and cute yet, though frankly it just meant that I had her entirely to myself and my other girls.
Almost entirely.
Apparently she'd spent more than a little time on her knees, which was good, because blowjobs from the completely inexperienced could be dangerous.
"Yes, My Lord. But never…never with someone as big as you are." she confirmed and confessed in the same breath, the words as flattering to my ego as they were honest, and I didn't even try to restrain the urge to reach out and pet her head.
"I'm sure you'll do fine. I have faith in you." I reassured her, before shooing her gently off the bed. She knelt by it's side without a word of instruction from me, waiting patiently while I scooted over to sit on the edge and spread my legs so that she could fit between them. Pushing her hair behind her ears with fingers that trembled only slightly, she leaned forward and gently licked at the head of my cum-slicked shaft. Apparently finding the mingled taste of Yashia and I to her liking, she fed more and more of my length into the warmth of her mouth and started to suck. Sighing in satisfaction, I settled back and let her work, running my fingers through her hair. Not controlling her motions, not this time, simply owning her. Simply reveling in the benefits that came with my rank, my right in the society which I now lived in, a right I was more than happy to indulge in.
If in less psychotic, rather more limited and emotionally-rewarding ways than my fellow Sith.
Unfortunately, as sensitive and hovering near the edge as I already was from sex and cock-warmed cuddling, the blowjob turned out to be a very short one, and as I filled Vaenia's stomach and throat with seed, I made a mental note to give her more opportunities for practice. I was a generous mistress, after all, very generous, and my girls deserved to be nothing but the best so that they could be nothing but the best.
"Good girl. Go ahead and get back into your uniform. Then head for the bridge. I want you to inform my Captain and Sylas that they'll be coming planet-side with us. I think they ought to meet the new source of their payroll, don't you?" I praised, petting her head before pushing her back slightly, enjoying the way that she licked her lips and pressed a kiss to my balls as I stood up, her presence simmering with a lazy sort of pleasure and satisfaction as she murmured an obedient acknowledgement.
My choice of reward for this entire debacle had been a bold one, and -much like talking back to him- would have likely resulted in things going badly for me if not for the fact that Kilran would be dead sooner rather than later. That being said, it had been a necessary demand. Hopefully, with the Black Talon and it's crew now being 'mine', a part of my retinue for want of a better word, would protect them from any retribution for their initial refusal to obey the Grand Moff.
Ordinarily, it would have been financial suicide to abscond with a Gage-class and it's crew as an Apprentice that hadn't even made it (back) to the capital yet, but I fortunately had a secret weapon, that being the heart of a relatively wealthy young woman named Asmu-Nikal. Who probably wouldn't be very happy that I'd made this decision without consulting her, but needs must, and it wasn't like our family wasn't collectively going to be extremely wealthy and powerful sooner rather than later.
The ship shuddered lightly as she slipped from the room, dropping out of hyperspace again, and I sucked in a sharp, shocked breath as I felt the colossal cloud of Dark Side energy snap into existence at the edge of my perception. It was surprising, really, how surprised I was. I'd been born and raised on this world, and I'd just been on Korriban itself. The presence of the Dark Side shouldn't be anything approaching a surprise to me. But with my new training, limited though it had been, building on the blocks that Nicky and Kallig had laid down, had definitely enhanced my ability to truly grasp it. And, in all honest, I probably still wasn't sensing the full width and breadth and depth of power that radiated off of the capital of the Empire. I simply lacked the level of metaphysical awareness required.
"Ready, Mistress." Yashia murmured from behind me, tugging me from my thoughts, and I looked over to see she and Kory were both carrying several bags and smiling at me, even as they waited dutifully for instructions.
"Good. Time to introduce you girls to my Nicky and my Kela. You'll love them, I promise."
###############################################################################
Asmu-Nikal was many things at all times. Beautiful, rich, brilliant, talented, deadly, clever, ambitious.
Asmu-Nikal was many things some of the time. Loving, kinky, imaginative, flirtatious, and even romantic.
One thing Asmu-Nikal was currently not, by any stretch of the imagination, was patient.
It had been months, months, since she had last held Vestara in her arms or even seen her face, forbidden as Vestara had been -as any student on Korriban was, by law and by tradition- from making holocalls during her time at the Academy. Months of tension, of worry, of wondering if she would receive word that the woman she loved had died. Months of reminding herself that Vestara was more than capable of passing the trials, that she had Lord Kallig watching over and guiding her, and taking comfort from those facts. Even reassuring herself with periodic reminders that Zash -the monstrous whore that she was!- would deliberately bend things as much as she could to ensure Vestara emerged alive and relatively whole, simply so that she could try to steal her body!
That knowledge, those reminders, had been what had buoyed her since Vestara had left. That, and the unwavering, passionate faith of their Kela, who had never doubted for even a moment that their mutual lover would return to them triumphant. And now, finally, Vestara was meant to be arriving. Her transport, the Black Talon, had arrived in orbit an hour ago, and it's shuttles had landed at the spaceport forty-five minutes after that. Surely, whatever disembarking that needed to be done was completed by now? She certainly sensed the other woman's presence within her perception, rising above the teeming masses around her, even above the minds closest to her in proximity, and Vestara certainly didn't Feel distressed by any measure, so what was taking her so long? Surely she would soon be able to see that beautiful woman she held so dear…?
Then that familiar, cared-for presence began moving towards her, physically and within the Force alike, and she didn't even try to restrain the smile that creased her lips. So what if anyone saw it? So what if people realized that she was waiting for her former slave like a wife waits for their husband? None of them would dare making an enemy of a woman, a Dynast, apprenticed to a man who was at most months away from sitting on the Dark Council. Not to mention the fact that anyone and everyone on Dromuund Kaas knew that Darth Marr was watching her House closely as well, due to Vestara and the 'slave acolyte experiment'. And, quite frankly, when the idea to wait at the estate had been brought to her attention -as she had not even for a moment considered it herself- by the somewhat more anxious and unsure Kela, she'd been unwilling to wait that long. Hours, even minutes, more separation from Vestara wasn't something she was currently willing to contemplate.
It was absurd, really. Vestara was going to have to go traipsing across the galaxy soon enough, 'ignorantly' collecting relics for Zash's little plot, and here Asmu-Nikal was, unwilling to wait an extra hour to see a woman she would be separated from for months on end! Yet as absurd as it sounded and seemed, it was true, and she didn't regret it for a moment. She had never, ever thought that she could truly be in love, she'd scoffed at the very idea of it more than once despite her deep fondness for Kela, and sometimes she was still surprised by just how quickly and deeply she had come to care for Vestara Khai. But love her Asmu-Nikal did, profoundly, and any time that they had together would not be wasted for even a moment.
Then Vestara came into view, and any such thoughts were driven from her mind as her eyes, and her focus, latched entirely and unwaveringly onto that slender, sauntering form. On the way she moved, more smoothly and gracefully than she had already been capable of before. The way she almost seemed to have a sensual swagger, her hips swaying, and Asmu-Nikal made an absent-minded mental note to get her love into better clothes than the standard, sub-par and distinctly unflattering equipment she was currently wearing. Entirely insufficient as they were.
She also looked exhausted, and her eyes narrowed as she -reluctantly- pulled them away from her to inspect her apparent companions. It was immediately obvious, even at this distance and from this barest of looks, that three members of the group belonged to Vestara. She could sense tendrils of Force-bond between them, could recognize all too well the way they oriented themselves around her and -even when they weren't actually looking at her- seemed to always be seeing her and focused on her.
They were cute enough, she supposed, especially the little redheaded Force user and the naval Ensign, but she'd have to give them a proper inspection and questioning before she decided whether or not they were worth keeping around her lover. Tolerant, even eagerly indulgent, with her lover's appetites and tastes and desires though she might be, willing to consider letting that little slut Beniko into the family even, she wasn't willing to let Vestara bring disaster onto the Dynasty that they would build together because a cute plaything caught her eye and got bred before proving themselves unworthy of such attentions.
Though she had to admit, if the Chiss that wasn't Vestara's showed the slightest bit of interest, she'd be more than happy to help her silver-haired almost-wife break the girl in. Despite the fact that Chiss were near-universally considered insanely dangerous to get involved with, and widely-acknowledged to have their own loyalties and agendas outside of the Empire, it was also widely acknowledged that their women were insanely attractive, and with good reason.
That being said, she was curious why an Intelligence agent, her sidekick -judging by the way the tech-implanted auburnette, who was also quite cute, was sticking to her flank- an Imperial Army trooper, a Force user, and three members of the Imperial Navy were following her lover around. Movement further back caught her eyes as another shape broke through the crowd, and her eyes widened sharply and quickly, breath catching in her lungs.
She'd have to ask, and when she did, she'd make sure to find out why there was a monstrous mountain of a dashade -with a foul look on his fanged face- on their heels as well.
Leave it to her lover to collect a strange end eclectic group such as this and seem utterly nonchalant about it.
…Force, she really needed to take her girls to bed. She needed a night of passionate love making, a morning of sex in bed, and a long debriefing.
And, maybe most of all, she needed to yell at Vestara again.
Clearly, she was up to her nonsense again, and Nicky would be the one wanting to pull her hair out over it.
[1] https://www.patreon.com/c/astandupphilosopher
[2] https://discord.gg/3VKjmXBYY8