I have only gone over this once so it is not super polished and there might be an error or two. I always welcome any questions, comments and constructive criticism. If people like it I might write a bit more of the character. As always I hope you enjoy <3
The showers of the Academy’s dormitory refresher were blessedly empty mid day as Zovora took the opportunity to wash the grave dust of Tulak Hord’s tomb from her scarlet skin. When she had arrived several weeks ago the dormitory had been full to bursting but now there only a handful of student’s remaining. Well, in her group anyway. From what she had observed and heard the slave groups had a much higher attrition rate than the others. She leaned forward into the water and rested her hands against the wall as she arched and stretched in the steaming warmth of it.
The trials had been difficult though it seemed Harkun delighted in making them even more so. Many of her group had focused on him to the distraction of the tasks at hand, their resentment combined with the thrill of finally being free going their their head and leading them to their death. Unlike most of her former fellow students Zovora had not been born a slave. Nor had she been one nearly as long. It had only been three years she had been in servitude, the outcome of a debt her father had incurred in return for his life.
“These fools thought they hated Harkun?” she seethed. “Try being birthed into nobility, to know what pleasures life could offer. Only to have all of it stolen from her by a betrayal from her own family. To suffer pain and humiliation to save their own skin.”
As her hands clenched into fists a crackle of energy sparked from her fingertips sending tiny tingles down her arm. With an effort of will she straightened up her fists unclenching as she forced her emotions back down. “Through passion I gain strength.” she muttered the mantra under her breath as her breathing calmed once again. “That was another thing the fools never understood.” she thought. Oh they could recite the code in their sleep but they did not understand a word of it. Passion granted strength but only to those strong enough to harness it. “Through passion, through. Idiots.” Passion alone did not give strength. Simply throwing yourself at an enemy in a fit of anger did not give victory. It needed to be harnessed, directed, channeled, controlled.
As the tension left her body she felt another kind of tension building. She did not need to look down to know how how firm the nipples that capped her full breasts were and when she lowered a hand between her legs she could feel more than water at her sex. Three years enslaved and unable to direct her own pleasure had left her more than a little pent up and she took every chance she could to indulge herself these days.
Her black fingernails traced a line up her chest and dug into her skin as she gripped a breast tightly, as she pressed her fingertips inside herself. The feeling was instantly electric, her digits drawn to her clit like a magnet as she gasped. She turned her back to the wall and let herself slide slowly to the floor her legs splayed wide to give herself easy access.
She bit at her lower lip as her fingertips danced along her folds and her eyes closed in pleasure. Electric warmth spread through her hips and crotch as a moan escaped her mouth along with the first small orgasm sending a twitch through her whole body. Her nipples were nearly painful in their sensitive erectness as she massaged the soft flesh of her breast hard, her fingers moving in time with those of her other hand.
Her long dark hair pooled around her as she slid down onto her back her legs braced against the floor and spread open to her touch. Another wave of pleasure flowed through her, arching her back off the floor and pulling her hand from her breast to brace herself. “More” the whispered word both a declaration of desire and a command to herself. She brought her hand to her lips, eagerly sucking her honey from her fingertips and savoring the taste.
It did not take long for her fingers to be slick with saliva and she lowered it back down to her crotch to join the other. Instead of her dripping slit however her fingers quested farther and quickly found the soft pucker of her asshole.
With practiced movements two fingers breached the tight ring of flesh sinking into her backdoor pressing deeper seeking out the fingers of her other hand separated now only by her own flesh. It did not take long with such intimate stimulation before she was writhing on the floor her scarlet skin in contrast to the pale stone of the tile as she screamed in pleasure her orgasm tearing the sound from deep within.
It took several minutes for her to stop twitching in the delicious afterglow. It only took the echoing sound of a slow clap to snap her out of the wonderful feeling. “After such a display I almost feel bad about this.”
Her eyes shot open and narrowed in disgust at the two men who were standing in the entrance. Wydr and Balek, she wondered how they had survived this long. “Harkun made us a deal, see. We kill you, we go home.” Balek simply stood silent next to his brother, clearly caught between embarrassment and excitement at the show she had just unknowingly put on. Not that she cared about that, she certainly was not turned off at the idea of a bit of an audience even if the current one as not to her liking. Far more worrying was the fact she had left her practice blade across the room with her dirty clothes. Still, blades were not everything. Getting control of her breathing once more she could feel the electric charge still within her, awaiting her call.
With a smirk Wydr began to stalk the nude woman his brother just a pace behind as they closed in on her. “Fight for your life acolyte.”
Her response was a wordless scream as she launched herself at them, violet lightning arcing from her feet to the ground and shooting from the tips of her fingers in deadly bolts.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/jz2tps/star_wars_the_old_republic_sith_inquisitor_erotic