Through Bitter Chains

Through Bitter Chains.

Warnings: This chapter contains M/M Slash, i.e.- sexual situations, so has been given the rating of NC-17, I don't want any unconstructive complaints, you have been warned.

Chapter 3:

Try as he might, Grievous could not move a mechanised muscle. The count's words only sought to anger him more so, and yet, the words more than his current situation, made him feel a sense of defeat.
Ashamed, humiliated, he thought back again to what his wives would think if they could see what he had become, oh how he longed to be whole, not trapped as he was in so many ways.

Dooku had now crossed the darkened room, and stood approximately a meter or so from Grievous form, his hold on him not weakening in the slightest.
Catching hold of a small flicker of a thought from the cyborg, Dooku’s eyes narrowed slightly in interest. While Grievous’ anger was directed at him, he sensed much longing in the General’s tortured mind. It was these thoughts that reminded Dooku this was still a sentient being he held here before him, with weaknesses, just as he had his own. Even after all Grievous had been through, such thoughts were more tormenting than any verbal insult Dooku could ever throw Grievous’ way. And therein he found his niche, his way to teach the General a lesson. Such tortured minds were ever so easy to manipulate through the force...Dooku concentrated.

Grievous’ body jolted against the wall, as his mind lapsed into a very strange state that one could only liken to semi consciousness. The force illusion threatening to envelope his every thought.
Closing the translucent membrane over his golden eyes, he had no choice but to give into the mind intrusion.

The strange feeling of semi consciousness gave way to confusion, as he found he was now able to move. Not only that, but his surroundings had changed, his head hurt like he had woken from taking a bad step in battle. He immediately recognised his surroundings, as those of his home world.
Thin, slit like pupils in his eyes widened, as he took in the sights around him.
To his left, tall temple like buildings, moss and other plant life growing either side of a long, steep set of stairs that lead right to the roof top of the temple. To his right, a rather simplistic looking village.

A well placed hand on his left shoulder pauldron made him turn round with a start. Such an action would have usually meant sudden death for the person who had laid hands on him, but this time... there was no reaction other than confusion. The anger that had once boiled within the darkness of his mind, now simmered, as he stared back into the face of his first wife.

"Shakar?"

She looked at him, her facial expression betraying a mixture of confusion, shock...perhaps even revulsion. She took several steps back, away from him, shaking her head in disbelief. The look upon her face was not one of love, as he had once known, not adoration, but fear, disgust.
He had never intended anyone on Kalee, to see him like this!
The shame, the humiliation....and then, the Anger.

His mind was doing summersaults, trying to make sense of this...how had this begun again? How did he get here? And then stark realisation hit him harder than a speeding mag-lev car.

"Dooku!"
As quickly as his mind had lapsed into this state, it fell out of it again. The illusion fading into nothing, and Grievous found himself where he expected to be, still against the wall of the room he had been in.

The Count, merely arched a brow. So that would not work? Not a second time, Grievous would expect it.
Dooku noted now, how appealing Grievous' new form actually was. All the sleekness of Geonosian design, something Dooku himself, admired quite a bit on a more personal, rather than practical, level. His own ship was a Geonosian sloop after all. Great time and care had gone into making that body, it was as deadly as any weapon, and Grievous was chosen to wield that weapon. Chosen, it was no coincidence he was where he was. And despite Grievous believing other wise, Dooku still expected some form of gratitude from him.

Looking over the cyborgs somewhat effeminate body once more, it was now that the Count began to doubt his ability to get to Grievous somehow. There surely had to be some other way? He could not let the General think he had somehow bested him. And as he looked on, bit by bit, he slowly began to see why Grievous had been the centre of his every recent thought.
Grasping at that mere thread of a thought, Dooku unravelled the bigger picture. And then he realised, he did not so much despise the General as he could not stand the thought of him having more power than he. Power had many effects on people, and for Dooku, one effect stood out most. It was alluring, he lusted after power. And here Grievous was pinned before him, his body a work of art yet deadly, powerful even.
Dooku need not have asked himself 'why' he took on the task of training the cyborg, why he had chosen to be in charge of this experiment. The General had been an imposing, powerful sort as it was. The Count had heard of his power, seen it. Just as he had seen the power of the dark side. Dooku wanted to take that power, to possess it. To control it.

“I own you!” His own words echoed in his mind only sharpening his senses more so.

Extending a hand, Dooku reached out to place a hand on one side of Grievous’ chest plate. He concentrated now, only on holding the General where he was.

Grievous watched, confused as Dooku proceeded to run a hand across his chest plate. Index finger tracing the groove that symbolised the Generals Kaleesh heritage.
Touch sensors within his mechanised body, sent a flurry of sensations shooting up his spinal cord, begging him to ask the question...” what are you doing?”

His voice sounded a little more hoarse than usual. And as much as Grievous relished the idea of killing the Count, he could not hide the tinge of pleasure in his voice as those words left his vocabulator.

Dooku picked up on the way that the General had spoken to him, and this only sought to arouse him.
The General would get no reply, only the same action repeated on the other side of his chest plate. Both of the Count’s hands then swept over either side of Grievous’ chest plate, meeting at the small gap in the Generals armourplast chassis.

Grievous’ thoughts turned from pleasure to ones of anger, perhaps even fear. Did the Count mean to kill him? Not here....not like this!?
Watching, eyes narrowed as Dooku pulled the two sides of his chest plate apart, Grievous noted that Dooku could have killed him at any point he wanted. It did not bear thinking about, especially when he was exposed in such a way. And so he waited for what he considered to be the inevitable.

However, it seemed that Grievous was to be proved wrong. The end he expected did not arrive. Instead he felt his spine transfer a merriage of pleasurable sensations to his brain. He looked down once again.
Dooku now proceeded to run both his hands softly over Grievous’ delicate gut sac, almost massaging it’s contents of the Generals last remaining organs.
The sensation, though partly artificial as Grievous were himself, was exquisite. Closing the translucent membrane over his golden eyes, Grievous had no choice but to surrender to this pleasurable onslaught.

As pleasurable as this was, had Grievous been free to move, Dooku knew fine well that Grievous would never have allowed this. Kaleesh pride was one thing the Geonosian’s mind alterations could never change.

Dooku continued to massage Grievous’ gut-sac with one hand, while the other ran a gentle trail down over each metallic rib in turn, causing Grievous to let a small groan escape him. His breathing becoming more shallow, how far would Dooku go? Did he care?

Dooku grinned slightly sadistically, this was the reaction he had hoped for. And as much as this aroused him, he had to have patience.

Human fingers traced lazy patterns over armourplast limbs, causing almost every touch sensor in the Generals body to ignite a new sensation of pleasure and want in his mind. Grievous hated being held captive as he was, but given the choice would he really want to move? In fact, Grievous realised with a burning desire that had lay dormant for so long, the reason he could not move, was the reason he did not reciprocate the Count's actions. Instead he was forced to once again, be at the mercy of Dooku. Their power struggle had just been taken to another level.

Dooku had now lowered his ministrations, his fingers playing mercilessly over the sensors on the general's inner thighs. This in turn caused Grievous to emit a low growl of a sound, and Dooku could only take this to be a good thing.
Grievous could already feel the static pulses building up within him, his ravaged organic remains desperately trying to send sensations and messages to organs he no longer possessed.
Dooku it seemed had picked up on this,

" So you like that hmm?" He said rather questioningly.

Grievous gave no reply, simply relishing the sensation coursing through him. He would never have admitted it to the elderly Sith Lord.

Raising a silver haired brow, the Count continued,
"Perhaps not?"

Dooku then immediately stopped what he was doing. The look in Grievous' eyes spoke a thousand words for him. And in the General's mind, Dooku sensed nothing but desire hidden behind the burning rage that festered there. A desire to be whole again, in more ways than one.

The static pulses Grievous had been feeling, doubled in strength as Dooku resumed his ministrations. Hands teasing touch sensors on every part of his droid body, but deliberately missing that which was organic. Was Dooku toying with him?

When the Count's hands returned to tease the sensors on his inner thighs, the sensations running through grievous were almost as much as he could take. Letting a loud moan escape his vocabulator, Dooku knew he had the General on a knifes edge. Just a little more, and he would have won this battle.
Ignoring his own wants and needs, perhaps that was his own pride working, Dooku placed his hands back inside Grievous' chassis. Once more he began to fondle the delicate gut-sac. His old, but experienced hands kneading the outer layer, it's green tinged contents jostling about inside.

The pleasure that now ran through Grievous, was too much to take. Static shot through him, shooting up his spine like wild fire, causing intense wave after wave of intense pleasure to wash over him. Crying out in his native tongue as this happened Grievous knew the intensity was because it had been so long. Too long. And as that thought ended so did the intensity of the pleasure, slowly ebbing in size until it was nothing but the dull ache of the aftermath.

It was several moments before the cyborgs breathing slowed to a normal rate. Opening his eyes slowly, he could now see that Dooku stood across the way in the doorway. The light streaming in behind the Count made his figure a silhouette, his face expressionless.

"I am your superior here General." The Count's voice was back to it's usual superior, sarcastic tone.

"You are here because of me.....you are what you are because I allowed it." There was a short pause, the air thick with tension once more. " I proved this today, I am the only one who could give you what you sought. To be whole again."

Once more Dooku paused, and Grievous was sure he could make out a faint hint of a smirk on the Count's face.

"I own you."

Dooku turned, the doors hissing closed behind him. It was only then Grievous dropped out of the invisible hold on him to the floor. Picking himself up, closing his chest plates, he turned his reptilian eyes on the door.

" This is not over by far!"

END.