Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep - Being revamped!

Chapter 5: Here for My Pleasure

As soon as Lord Vader decided that she would accompany him to Imperial Center, new clothing was ordered with dizzying swiftness. Several seamstresses fluttered around her, made nervous by the ominous presence of the man who overlooked all the preparations with a surprisingly knowledgeable eye.

“And she’ll need veils,” he told one of them. “Diaphanous, but concealing,” he ordered.

Samri’s eyes went to his but he shook his head and she knew well enough to keep her questions for when they were alone. After the first exhausting round of fittings, she spent the evening alone eating a simple meal in the kitchen.

Lira was busy elsewhere and so the meal was a lonely and quiet affair. Where Lord Vader ate, she was not sure, nor did she want to know. The feel of his eyes on her all day had been disconcerting. At times, it seemed she would feel the ghost of a caress go up her arm or across her breast, but when she glanced at him, he would be seemingly involved in a conversation with one of the women or staring moodily out the huge windows.

Sighing, Samri took care of her dishes and went up the stairs to her small but comfortable bedroom. She undressed for bed and a moment later, there was a discreet tap on the door. She opened it cautiously, to see one of the younger guards standing there, an uncomfortable look on his face.

”Yes?” Samri murmured.

“Your presence is ordered in Lord Vader’s quarters,” he instructed.

“Let me get my robe,” she told him and closed the door to do so.

She was soon trailing behind him, though she knew the way to Lord Vader’s quarters as well as her own. But he remained a few steps in front of her, as though guiding the way. He soon came to a halt before the big, black door and knocked quietly.

A deep voice commanded her to enter, and the guard held open the door while she slipped through.

Once inside the room, Samri leaned back against the door, her eyes searching for Vader amidst the shadows of the darkened chamber.

Suddenly, the fire flared to life and she saw him sitting in the huge chair that faced the fireplace.

“Come closer,” he ordered.

Samri slowly approached the man sitting so quietly, not once did his gaze flicker her way. His gloved hand lifted languidly to indicate the chair next to him and she took a seat.

“When we arrive at the Imperial Center, I want you to wear the veils I have ordered for you,” he instructed her.

“Of course, milord, but I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she said softly. “None of the men here bother me, surely-”

His voice cut her off. “I don’t care if you live or die, so it is of little consequence to me if one of them fucks you on the table in front of my eyes,” he said bitingly. “Except that it is a matter of respect. No one touches what is mine until I say it is no longer mine.”

Samri sat back in the chair, swallowing her own anger and humiliation. “Of course, milord.”

Heaving a sigh, he leaned forward, his eyes still focused on the fire. “If you are not seen until I choose to reveal you, their simple minds will be occupied with the unimportant,” he told her. “It keeps their mind off of the important things and this serves my purposes.”

Tamping down the feeling of humiliation at being reminded of her lowly status, she did not answer. She did not trust herself to do so without screaming at him.

He laughed and looked at her. “You’re angry,” he murmured, a mocking smile tugging at his lips.

A single jerk of her head was all she could give him in response.

“At least you don’t scuttle around here in constant fear of me,” he said. For just an instant, his voice seemed sad, full of regrets for a life he might have had once. Samri shook the notion away. What regrets could this man have? This man, who had absolute power of life and death over an Empire?

“Come here,” he ordered huskily, indicating his lap.

Biting her lip, she got to her feet and approached him. When she was a meter away, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his lap. He pushed her head against his shoulder and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Don’t speak, just sit here,” he instructed.

How long they sat there, she never knew. Eventually, she dozed off, soothed to sleep by the steady rhythm of his heart and breathing. The fire had died down she woke up to find herself being carried to the big, black bed.

She felt the robe slipping from her shoulders until she was exposed to his hungry gaze. His eyes were hot with desire as he gazed down at her and she saw his hands twitch at his sides.

“So lovely,” he murmured as he knelt by the side of the bed. His gloved hand came out and cradled her breast, slowly squeezing it as his fingers found the nipple, which he pinched. He seemed to watch the reaction of her body with great interest and an almost clinical detachment.

His flesh hand went down the length of her body, tracing lines up and down her side and leg. Then it dipped in between her legs, encouraging them to open. Skillfully, his fingers teased her, coaxing her response. When her hips thrust up into his fingers, he gave her a triumphant smirk and then thrust his fingers hard into her core. He hit that spot inside of her that made it impossible not to give herself up to the desire he sparked inside of her. He tore her response from her and it felt sweet.

Samri cried out as the waves crashed over her. His mouth came down and closed over one nipple, suckling there as she rode out the storm. Each tug of his mouth made the crest of the wave higher, her fall down that much steeper.

When she came shuddering down to reality, he was lying beside her on the bed, his eyes studying her flushed cheeks and the way her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath.

She grew uncomfortable under his intense gaze and tried to look away. A hard hand on her chin made that impossible and brown eyes met blue.

“You are here for my pleasure,” he said in a low silky tone. “Do not forget that.”

Samri gulped and nodded. Her lips opened as if she wanted to speak but then she closed them again. He was too unpredictable.

“Speak,” he commanded her as his hands went to her hips and he moved over her. His mouth came down on her breast and he sucked hard. Her back arched up off the bed and he murmured encouragingly.

“Why?” she gasped out.

“Why what?” his voice was muffled as he continued to lick at her breast.

“To the capital…” Samri panted, his fingers now beginning to do delicious things between her thighs.

“Because…” he whispered. “It is not expected of me…”

He opened his own robe and let his erection rub promisingly against her wet heat. Sliding it between her slick folds, he did not enter her but merely kept up the taunting rhythm, the friction making her belly clench in anticipation.

“Do you want me inside of you?” He mocked when her hands began to shake as she clutched him closer.

Unable to answer, but afraid not to, she used her hands to pull herself up, rubbing her heat against that length of hardened flesh that both maddened and infuriated her. She craved the thrust of it deep inside of her, yet despised herself for that weakness.

His lips were busy nuzzling her throat when he whispered the order. “Get on your knees,” he said in a husky voice.

“What?”

She found her body being picked up and turned, and then he pulled her back until she rested on her knees. His hands roamed over her back and buttocks, small sounds of appreciation escaping him.

Making small circles with his hips, he continued to rub the head of his cock against her, reveling in the slick response that bathed his erection. Small, subtle thrusts of his hips brought his hard flesh in slow strokes across her overheated flesh.

“Please!” She managed to gasp out.

He chuckled behind her, but then he gave one powerful thrust and buried himself to the hilt. It felt as if he buried himself completely inside of her, the long, hot length of flesh seeming to burrow into her soul. He pulled back and thrust into her again, hard and swift.

One hand came around and began to tease the bundle of nerves that was already quivering. Each stroke was long and hard, seeming to never end until he began the long glide out once again. No matter how much she arched back against him, he never altered his rhythm, keeping exquisite control.

She felt her climax begin deep inside of her, her walls clutching at his cock inside of her. Samri cried out, felt herself falling over that sweet abyss that he had taken her to yet again. She hated him, hated the way her body responded to him.

But he would not be denied; he knew her body too well. Her flesh was his to command in more ways than one.

She heard him give a triumphant cry behind her, felt him swell and jerk within her. Then she felt the hot spurt of his seed deep inside her, his hands clutching at her hips, marking her pale flesh with bruises she would wear for days.

He shuddered behind her and then they collapsed on the bed. Roughly, he pulled her close and covered them with the sheet.

From a distance, she heard his deep voice command her, “Sleep.”

And she did.

For Lord Vader there was no such peace. He was restless, disconcerted. He forced himself to remain still and quiet in the bed. His skin felt too tight, as if it did not belong to him. It was a feeling much like what he experienced as a Jedi Padawan learning the skill of meditation.

Though he did not like to admit it, the warmth of her body next to him in the bed was a welcome distraction. It was almost enough to make him believe that he was in another bed in another time – another woman at his side. He turned and studied his companion.

Such feelings were not fair to the girl, this he knew. And the Knight, who lived buried so deeply inside of him, cried out in protest at his use of her. Lightly, he brushed back the locks of brown hair, his eyes roaming over her features.

She was lovely, far more beautiful than she knew. Perhaps it was her lack of conceit that drew him to her, and not her resemblance to the one whose name he did not speak. There was a sweetness in her, a naiveté that distressingly appealing.

Any soft feelings for the girl were dangerous.

Perilous times lay ahead, and he could not risk becoming diverted from his goal and what he would need to do to achieve it. It would put both of them in danger, and he had to make sure she was the one. The situation required delicate handling.

Vader rolled onto his back, crossing his arms behind his head. Closing his eyes, he slipped into a meditative state, seeking the peace of forgetfulness.
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