Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep - Being revamped!

Chapter 6: Urgency


The next weeks were filled with lessons.

Lessons from dancing instructors, lessons in etiquette, and then more lessons. She was given a crash course in surviving the upper echelons of society among the galaxy’s elite. Lord Vader did not stay on the planet during those busy weeks, but would check in on her progress every few days. If she was not doing well in one particular area, she would receive a comm call, admonishing her and exhorting her to greater effort.

As always, she would nod her acquiescence and vow to do better. And she would.

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He was back. Vader had arrived early in that morning and they had just shared their evening meal.

“Walk with me,” Lord Vader said, holding out his hand.

Samri got up obediently, placing her small hand in his large one. To her surprise, he steered her toward the gardens. The sun was due to set in an hour and its golden light gave the lovely garden even more appeal.

She inhaled deeply as they neared the largest bed of flowers. Vader glanced at her and she flushed self-consciously.

”I like flowers,” she said sheepishly.

“I see,” he replied, a smile tugging at his lips. He waves his hand, indicating the rich variety of colorful blossoms. “And which of these beauties do you prefer?”

Tapping her finger to her lips, she knelt and studied each cluster of flowers. Finally, she pointed to a tiny white flower, rather humble in appearance next to the other, more flamboyant blooms. “This one,” she breathed, lightly touching her fingertips to the delicate petals.

Vader stared at her and then at the pale blossoms. “That one?” he asked in a disbelieving tone.

“Yes,” she murmured, smiling at the tiny buds.

He crossed his arms over his chest and jerked his chin toward the riotous mix of colors in the bed. “There are others more striking,” he informed her as if she might not have noticed.

Samri shrugged. “Yes,” she agreed in a tone that made it clear she stood by her choice. “But I like this one.”

He towered over her, carefully observant. “Do you know the name of it?”

She leaned down and sniffed, laughing at its sweet, subtle fragrance. “No, but it doesn’t matter,” she answered.

“It is the myriana flower,” Vader continued.

“A lovely name for a beautiful flower,” Samri answered approvingly.

“It is from Naboo,” Vader said in a voice that made it clear his thoughts were far away from the garden in which they stood.

“Ah, that explains it then,” she said with a smile, rising gracefully to her feet.

“Explains what?” he asked sharply.

“Why I was drawn to it,” Samri explained with a curious glance at his stern expression.

“Explain,” he ordered abruptly.

“My grandmother was from Naboo,” she answered. “She is the one who taught me to love flowers and plants.”

He turned, his black cloak settling into folds around his lean frame. “Come,” he murmured. Vader strode forward on the path, Samri hurrying to catch up with him.

She fell into step beside him and they walked in silence.

Suddenly, he stopped and tilted her chin up, looking into her eyes. A frown of curiosity drew a line between his blue eyes. “What do you think of your life here?”

Swallowing hard, Samri shrugged indifferently, unable to tear her gaze away from his. “It is never easy to be a slave, milord,” she replied quietly.

A blink was his only immediate reaction. Then he nodded and released his hold on her. Turning, he reached out and plucked a tuuka rose from a bush. Vader held the stem of the blood-red flower in his gloved hand. The long fingers of his other hand came up to brush the soft petals.

“We are all slaves in one way or another,” he said quietly. “This rose would die if the soil did not nurture it. So while it is the flower that draws our eyes, it relies on the soil for its very life,” he mused.

“That is the true definition of a Master, is it not? The power of life,” he murmured. Then his flesh hand closed around the rose and crushed it. He was seemingly oblivious to the thorns that bit into his flesh. “And the power of death,” he said as he opened his hand to reveal the crushed flower resting on his blood-smeared flesh.

She gathered up the ruined petals and threw them to the ground. A sigh of reluctant concern escaped her as she studied his wounds. Her eyes flashed up to his. “You’re hurt,” she whispered.

“It’s just pain,” he answered without emotion, not sparing his hand a glance. “We should go back.”

Without a word, she turned with him and they entered the castle once more.

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The day came at last when they were scheduled to depart for the Imperial Capital. Samri nervously twisted her fingers in the soft, shimmersilk skirt of one of her many new gowns. She eyed the mountain of bags waiting to be taken to the ship and wandered what one woman could possibly do with all the clothes those bags contained.

Lord Vader had merely smiled at her when she asked him that question.

He stood in the great hallway, his customary black cloak swaying slightly as he directed the servants in the loading of the baggage.

At last, he turned to her and inspected her attire, his cold blue eyes moving slowly from her feet, up her slim frame to the elaborate arrangement that Lira had made with her brown curls. His eyes narrowed briefly and then he gave her a nod of approval.

He gestured for her to follow him to the ship, and Samri walked behind him slowly, getting used to the finery that she wore. The shoes had high heels that made walking an exercise in concentration, and the full skirts of her gown conspired to trip her. But she made the short journey to the shuttle without falling, a victory in her eyes.

Stepping on to the shuttle, she took a seat at the back and looked out the window. This would be the first time she had seen her new home from above, her trip here having been accomplished in the cell of her buyer’s ship.

The planet had a harsh beauty that seemed to suit the man who had built his castle here. To her surprise, he was piloting the shuttle himself and for she wondered what other hidden talents he might have. His hands flew over the controls, making even the clumsy craft seem to glide up into the air and make its way toward the graceful ship waiting for them above.

They docked smoothly, and Vader held out his hand to lead her into the ship that would take them to their destination.

The corridors of the ship were vast, grey in color, and a confusing maze that made her head swim. Lord Vader took her directly to a large cabin that was comfortable, but not nearly as luxurious as his apartment in the castle. Like that room, this one was a palette of dark colors with an occasional flare of crimson.

“You will stay in my cabin during the trip,” he instructed her.

Samri felt her heart sink. To be in his presence during the entire journey was not going to be a comfortable experience. But she nodded her acceptance, as was expected.

His hand brought her chin up and he smiled mockingly at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll be busy attending to matters on the ship during the day,” he told her. “There are holovids and other amusements here, but do not leave the cabin without permission and one of the guards accompanying you.”

“Yes, milord,” she answered humbly.

He pulled away as the men brought in their luggage and stored it. After the men left, he turned to her. “You’ll have to unpack some of our things,” he remarked, “I did not bring a lady’s servant with us, too much trouble.”

“Yes, milord,” Samri answered, glad to have a task to occupy her thoughts and hands.

Then he leaned down and his tongue flicked inside her ear. Samri felt a pleasant shiver run down her spine, coming to a roiling stop in her center.

“Tonight, I shall further your education,” he promised her.

She was trembling as he left and the mocking look in his eyes told her that he knew how his touch affected her.

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Samri ate a light meal alone in their quarters that night. Sometimes she could hear the muffled sounds of boots, but the chamber was surprisingly well protected from the sounds that came from living on a ship.

Her meal had been served to her by a pale-faced young man who had gone out of his way to avoid looking at her. By the time she had finished eating and put the dishes on the tray to be taken away, the chrono told her it was late evening.

Samri stepped into the fresher and took a quick shower and dressed in one of the sleep gowns he had ordered for her. She had just finished brushing her hair when the door slid open and Lord Vader stood silhouetted in the entrance for a moment.

Then he moved into the room and the light revealed the weary lines on his face. He looked alarmingly pale. A touch of pity rose up in her, reminding her that he worked hard for his Emperor, no matter what the others might think. She did not like him, or the Emperor, but there was no denying that keeping an Empire subjugated was hard work.

Without a word, she came to him and deftly removed his cloak, ignoring his look of surprise as she did so. She folded it silently and put it on a chair, then lightly grasped his hand and led him to the bed, where she indicated he should sit down.

It was a sign of his fatigue that he did not mock her or argue with her. He merely went where she led and sat down obediently. His eyes never left her as she removed his boots, his belt, and dark outer tunic. He lifted his limbs like a tired child, allowing her to undress him without protest. Finally, he was clad only in his pants and the gossamer fine shirt he wore underneath his tunic. She decided to leave those alone and for the first time, the familiar mocking smile appeared on his face.

With a sigh, she began to put his clothes away. Hearing a clink behind her, she turned to see a bottle flying to his hand. He removed the stopper from the bottle and drank deeply. She watched his cheeks flush as he did so. Vader looked at her over the bottle as he drank, his blue eyes observant and searching.

“Are you hungry?” she asked in a low murmur, hesitant to break the almost companionable silence they shared.

“No,” he answered just as quietly. He held out his hand. “Come here.” Less an order than a request, the words prompted her to obey.

Samri came to a halt right in front of him, the sheer sleep gown providing little protection against his gaze.

“I don’t need food right now,” he said. “I need to lose myself in your sweet body.” With that, he jerked her down on the bed, the bottle floating to the table. She found herself tucked beneath him, looking up into his puzzled eyes.

When he leaned down to kiss her, she could smell the Corellian brandy on his lips. Gently, he merely pressed his mouth to hers, content with that light touch for the moment. Then she felt the soft sweep of his tongue, lightly lapping at her lips, seeking permission to enter. With a feeling of inevitability, she parted her lips and felt his tongue enter to caress hers.

A groan reverberated through his long frame and the hand at her shoulder clutched hard. His mouth left hers and she did not hear her own cry of protest. He pushed down her sleep gown and smiled against her breast just before his mouth closed over one nipple, the tongue lashing against it with tender abandon and his teeth lightly worrying the peak.

He grasped her breast in his hand, squeezing lightly as his mouth continued to work its magic on her flesh. Then he turned his attention to her other breast, his fingers remaining behind to continue to tease and torment the first pink peak.

Her back arched off the bed as he took her other nipple into his mouth and she felt him chuckle against her. But she no longer cared if she had given him this victory, she would feel the shame of it tomorrow. Tonight there was only heat and sensation, need and culmination.

He sat up, her body trapped between his thighs. Vader looked down at her, her breasts revealed to his hungry gaze, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining with need. The smile he gave her was not mocking or superior, simply pleased that his touch had aroused her.

Sliding his shirt from his shoulders, his well-muscled chest seemed to glow. He was golden all over, hard and soft at the same time. She watched the muscles in his arms bunch and bulge when he plucked her off the bed. With one quick movement, he placed himself on the bed and her above him, much as he had been over her just a moment before.

Now she was straddling his body and she felt his hardness pressing up at her through the layer of his clothing. His hands went to her hips and he ground her down on his erection, throwing his head back as he did so. His lips parted and a desperate gasp escaped them.

Catching the rhythm quickly, she began to undulate above him, torturing him even as she tormented herself. The friction rose quickly between them, the delicate movement of her hips bringing her in delicious contact with the hardness of his cock and then retreating.

With a growl, he moved her back and his hands shook as he worked at the fastening of his trousers. Her own shaky hands helped him remove that last barrier and then his flushed, crimson cock was bouncing into view. A tip of fluid glistened on the tip and without thought, she leaned down and delicately lapped it up.

He groaned and his hands fisted in her hair. Then those hands went to her shoulder and ripped the sleep gown off her body, the fine fabric no match for his strength. With a satisfied grunt, his eyes roamed over her, and then he urged her back to straddling his body.

This time the heat of his cock was tauntingly close to entering her and she moved her hips instinctively. Once more, he threw his head back and gave a mighty groan that she felt reverberate through her. His hands lifted her and then suddenly impaled her on his erection.

She gasped at the quick feeling of invasion, her body struggling to accommodate his girth and length. Then his fingers came to tease her and she felt her body welcome the intruder and her body felt full of his heat.

His hands returned to her hips, silently urging her to move. She brought her body up, almost letting his cock leave her warmth and then came back down suddenly. He howled his appreciation of the act and she felt a strange sense of power run through her.

Samri set up a rhythm that seemed to make him crazed. His hands clutched at her desperately, as if he could not decide whether to hurry or slow the pace of her attentions. Finally, he gave up and just let her set the rhythm. Each time she came up and the long, slow glide of his flesh within her almost disappeared, then she came down swiftly, claiming his flesh once again.

He arched up off the bed each time she impaled herself on him, seeking to deepen the contact. His hands moved up to her breasts, his fingers worrying and teasing each hard peak. His face was taut with an ancient need, and she knew that need was reflected in her own face as well.

Merciless, she kept the pace up until she felt his cock swell inside of her and on the down stroke, she leaned forward and kissed him deeply. She felt his shock and then he was coming, his seed coming out in long, hot spurts. She felt his fingers return to her sex and his attentions were just enough to send her spiraling off into the abyss with him. Samri continued to move in delicate circles upon him while they rode out their climaxes.

With a satisfied shudder, she collapsed into his arms and listened to his heartbeat slowly calm beneath her cheek.

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