Offshore Job

Chapter 1.9 – Dred ponders his revenge (Night 26)

Elsewhere in Tipoca city, Dred Priest wasn’t in as forgiving mood…

With some planning, He knew that he could figure a way around Reau’s blaster and subdue her. What then? To smack her one and start a carving in return was an option and fair game, but he knew beforehand that he wouldn’t feel the pleasure she had displayed while doing so. He wasn’t an artist, plain and simple and he liked her good looks and fair skin.

Of course that wouldn’t save her from receiving his sigil in return once she was finished with hers on his pectoral, but before that, he wouldn’t do things by halves. In the end, he would have to unrivet the metal carving that adorned his beskar’gam to burn the sigil right on in perfect proportions. The reek on his shoulder plate was an artist’s work handed down in his family for three generations. It was big, but it would do.

He had to factor that, if she thought he screwed up, she wouldn’t turn tables on him, just kill him. Dred sighed in self pity. To life up to the expectations of a Mandalorian woman –especially Isabet- wasn’t easy. He could see why Fett had taken his courtship elsewhere, even though that plan had somewhat backfired.

Dred had already picked out a spot to put his mark, that fair expanse of skin on Isabet’s hamstring and buttock that was usually hugged tightly by the holster of her sidearm. Thinking of that, he enjoyed leather on her as well; the scent of it intermingled with her aroma.

Maybe he should string her up with some intricate Keldabian knot work and take a leash to her shapely butt? But that would blemish her skin as well if he wasn’t careful. He had a length of bantha raw hide loafing around but otherwise he didn’t have exotic tools at hand. A utility belt would clearly not do. He had to be careful not to get too heavy handed on her. An after-passion visit at Gilamar’s infirmary - now that would be a major embarrassment.

Where to, anyway? Their quarters were too cramped, not that he would even consider to try her quarters. What happened to Fett just proved that point. What he was looking for was a larger room with sufficient soundproofing. The ammunition chamber was getting old, the sergeants training room was open all around the clock. A coms-room in one of the spires would work well and be prepared unobtrusively, but moving her out there would be difficult. He preferred a shorter distance between ambush and indulgence.

He had to single out his prey from this girl gang Isabet had formed with Rav and Tomoe. On the way home from the sergeants training room, Issy would usually pass the mess hall… a room he knew intimately, but which would be deserted after dinner, even the droids would be shut down after 2030. The wide counter would do nicely and there were plenty of structures he could use creatively.

Now her scent titillated his palate. Hmmm… spicy. He liked his food in general and spicy food especially. He would hand out some of his precious Trammistan chocolate in celebration of her sweet torture, and then fuck her brains out. That she hadn’t bothered to use him more intimately last time still left him with a pang. This time, he would make her beg for it.

There really was no need to waste much time on the knot work. Maybe just a little: for the leather-aspect and to have a hand free to tease her as he pleased. He enjoyed grappling and had the muscle to subdue her. And he had a profound feeling that she liked him showing her what he did best: raw power.