The Game

The device was small and purple, and fit snugly inside her. Senator Padme Amidala struggled to remain still, her body tense as she tried to anticipate when the vibrations would strike next.

She could take it out, of course. It wasn't surgically attached by any stretch of the imagination, and her hands weren't bound. Her choice to keep the device where it was made things interesting, however; it was, in fact, the entire point of The Game.

"Oh," Padme murmured softly as the vibrator suddenly came to life. Despite her attentions, the sensation still took her by surprise, and she struggled not to wiggle in her chair as the nub bore down on her clit. The intensity was too much, and she was forced to shift in her seat.

"Senator Amidala, are you quite all right?" Mon Mothma noted with a touch of concern. Several pairs of eyes, of Jedi and Senate affiliation alike turned towards her. Padme blushed.

"I'm just fine. Thank you. Sorry for the interruption." The meeting continued. Padme worried her lower lip, trying to focus on the copy of the afternoon's agenda in front of her. Looking up again after a moment, her eyes silently sought out a particular Jedi face: Anakin Skywalker's eyes met hers with intentional casualty. His face was passive enough for the topic at hand, but as Padme frowned at him, he broke into a lopsided grin.

The vibrator stopped, and then started again only scant seconds later. Anakin made a button-pushing motion with his artificial hand. He didn't need the device to control what was going on - the Force worked well as a master control - and they both knew it. In spite of herself, Padme blushed.

Beside Anakin, Obi-Wan leaned over and said something Padme couldn't overhear, but from the look on Anakin's face, she was pretty sure it had to do with paying attention rather than flirting. Not that Anakin would let anything like that get in the way of The Game.

Their paths crossed so infrequently that it only seemed natural to make the most of what little time they had together. The Game had developed as a way for them to be intimate even in public. Well, the "in public" part was the whole point. Anakin liked to push boundaries, and this was just one more manifestation of that, one Padme was perfectly happy to go along with, even when it had her trying desperately not to gasp in pleasure in the middle of a Senate meeting.

The vibrator switched to a higher frequency, punctuated by staggered, infrequent patterns. Padme's nether regions throbbed; she ached to slide a hand between her legs, or excuse herself to the 'fresher for a couple of minutes to finish herself off. She sent a withering glance at Anakin, who looked very, very pleased with himself. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, simply blinked, in that vaguely disapproving way that he had.

The meeting lasted nearly another hour, during which Anakin mercilessly flicked the device on and off, switching back and forth between all manners and speeds of vibration. Tottering onto the lift tube without screaming was a superhuman effort, but Padme managed.

Several senators and Jedi crowded into the lift, including Anakin and Obi-Wan. "M'lady," her secret husband nodded, bowing for show. Obi-Wan inclined his head slightly forward, a gesture which Padme returned. It was amazing what they could get away with right in front of people's faces.

"Did you find anything about the meeting particularly stimulating, Senator?" Anakin asked. Exhibit A. Nobody in the enclosure reacted, though Obi-Wan's face seemed to say everything and nothing all at once.

Eyes flashing, Padme forced herself to keep her hands at her sides. "Senate meetings aren't known for their high-flying excitement, Master Jedi," she said sweetly. They were hideously obvious, she thought, and really should have known better, but it was altogether far too easy to warrant not doing it.

The rest of the lift ride came and went without incident. With practiced smoothness, Padme looked apologetically at Obi-Wan. "I just remembered," she feigned, gasping only the most miniscule amount when Anakin shot the vibrator up to full speed without warning. "I have a large package to pick up at the mail circulation desk." She looked pointedly at Anakin.

"A package?" Obi-Wan asked.

"A large one," Padme repeated. "Very bulky. Very heavy. If it's all right to steal him for a moment, Master Kenobi, and if it pleases him to assist me, Master Skywalker could be of great help."

"It pleases me very much, M'lady," Anakin chimed in. Surely, someone would call them out. However, nobody even seemed to be paying attention beyond Obi-Wan, who just blinked at them tiredly.

"I don't see why not."

"Oh, thank you, Master Kenobi," Padme said, just a hint too cordially to be genuine. She resisted the urge to press herself against Anakin's tall frame as he proffered an arm, "To escort the Senator safely back to 500 Republica". The vibrator, still nestled in her crotch, continued whirring away.

Obi-Wan watched them go. "Really," he said to himself with a sigh, and then straightened as he was approached by Senator Organa. "Hello there, Bail," he greeted.

Organa smiled warmly. "Obi-Wan," he nodded, and then leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Was it just me," he began, conspiratorially, "Or did you hear a humming noise back there?"

*


"A 'large package'?" Anakin goaded playfully as the door to Padme's expansive suite loomed. "That's the best you could come up with?"

Padme let out a sharp sigh as Anakin ramped up the vibrator to its highest setting. "Well, what else would you call it?" she teased back, putting a hand over Anakin's crotch as she dragged him into the apartment by his tabards.

Anakin gave her a lopsided grin. "It is pretty sizable, isn't it?" he replied, thrusting against her hand. Padme squeezed slightly, leading him to the sofa.

"You think you're getting off easy, Master Jedi?" she asked, pushing him onto the cushions and straddling his lap, hitching up her voluminous skirts in order to press the vibrator against his groin.

Anakin smirked. "Always do," he joked. He gripped the end of the device in two fingers, wiggling it around. Padme's knees buckled and she bit her lip. "You look like you're not too far off yourself, M'lady," he grinned.

Padme let out a small whimper. "Not ... fair ..." she gasped out. She began to reach between her own legs, but Anakin smacked her hand away.

"Nuh-uh. You're mine, Senator." Her husband's face was almost malicious, yet just playful enough for Padme to know she was being prompted.

"Oh, Master Jedi," she gasped, squirming as Anakin thumbed her hardened nipples. "Whatever are you going to do with me?"

Anakin leered at her and tossed one leg over hers, flipping her over onto her back against the cushions. He pinned her arms over her head with his gloved hand and kissed her roughly. "You've been very naughty, Senator," he rasped. "Getting all worked up in front of your esteemed colleagues."

Padme blinked at him, squirming as his knee found a place between her legs. "That was hardly my fault," she complained, teasingly, as Anakin grabbed her headdress and tossed it aside, letting her hair spill over her shoulders.

"Ah," Anakin replied, "but you weren't exactly complaining. I think you liked being on display like that." He knew she did, of course, just as she knew he liked The Game as much as she did. "You can be such a little slut."

Bucking against his knee, Padme managed, "Look who's talking!"

Anakin summoned a piece of fabric with the Force, and then wrapped an arm around his wife's neck, drawing her close. "You won't be looking," he said, a feral grin in his voice, and then the fabric was folded and Padme really couldn't see anything at all. She blinked behind the blindfold as she felt the end pieces being knotted together in the back of her head, Anakin being unnaturally careful (for him, anyways) not to entrap her long hair in a way that would be painful. Padme squirmed, even a bit genuinely in fear, but shivered in delight nonetheless. Anakin could take her to the edges of ecstasy, terror, adoration and annoyance all at the same time. It was a dangerous game that they played, literally and metaphorically, but she knew she wouldn't have it any other way.

Unable to see, Padme was forced to rely on her other senses. Privately, she was glad, in this moment, at least, not to be Force-sensitive, the idea of having so much power to lose somewhat terrifying. She knew Anakin would not hurt her, but she still tensed when she felt him stripping her of her clothing. She'd yelled at Anakin before for ruining some of her more expensive garments with his careless manhandling - he was more delicate this time, untying and unbuckling each piece with extra care. "Stand up," he intoned quietly near her ear. Padme acquiesced, the vibrator still tucked inside her, albeit easy to ignore with a dull throbbing at the moment, and felt the cool fabric of her dress slide smoothly down her body, pooling at her feet. She began to step out of her tall shoes, but a hand on her now bare shoulder stopped her.

"Leave them on."

Padme shivered, for real this time, as a small breeze danced over her nearly-naked body. Anakin's fingers fumbled a bit with her bra before it, too was gone. Calloused hands slid up and over her breasts, cupping them, pinching her nipples; torn between giggles and gasps, she nonetheless reached up to remove the offending digits as the sensations caused by them became too intense.

Anakin slapped her hands lightly. "I don't think so, Senator," he hissed. Her arms were suddenly yanked behind her back, and held roughly in place by Anakin's gloved, robotic hand. He nudged her forward and she walked dutifully, her heels making sharp clacking noises against her quarters' freshly buffed floors. She felt Anakin steering her towards her bedroom; it wasn't until he pulled open the double doors to her expansive, walk-in closet (one of three) that she realized what he had in store for her.

Anakin had installed the ceiling hook the last time that he was on leave. He had gotten the idea from the Outlander, where a swinging device was used as part of the club's popular weekend shows with which Anakin was well familiarized. Padme had been hesitant at first, but Anakin was so excited that she eventually relented (though she hadn't acquiesced to trying the swing that he had also built and stashed on a high shelf that Threepio wouldn't accidentally run into - yet).

Padme's closet contained plenty of floor space, and also several ties and laces. Padme heard Anakin wrestle briefly with something, and decided it was one of her bathrobe ties. Anakin dropped her hands briefly and recollected them in front of her person, where they were roped together tightly in a series of knots. Padme felt her arms being lifted and heard Anakin grunt, and then felt him step away a moment later, leaving her tethered by her wrists to the hook in her closet. A good hare shorter than her husband, Padme felt herself straining even with her heels on - she assumed that was the purpose of Anakin not allowing her to remove them, though it could simply be that he enjoyed the contrast of the bright shoes against her pale skin.

Hands moved up and down her body, cupping her chin, teasing her tits, running up and down her thighs. "Ah," she said, and squirmed as one of Anakin's fingers - one from his real hand, she guessed - began rubbing against her nether regions, still enclosed in thin, sheer panties. The pressure increased. "Oh ... oh, Ani," she panted, straining to bear down on the delicious friction. The bindings that held her in place gave little, however, so she tried to shove her legs together instead.

"Uh uh," Anakin taunted, and Padme could hear the smile in his voice. He continued rubbing her pussy mercilessly. "My little whore," he cooed, shoving a finger inside her as much as her underwear would allow and making her keen. "Senator slut." Suddenly, the vibrator came to life again.

"You're a ... beast, Ani," Padme groaned. She moved her legs together again and Anakin shoved them apart, and then her flimsy underwear was being removed, delicate strings sliding down her legs, and then being deftly maneuvered around her pointy shoes.

Anakin rustled; he cupped her chin and kissed her hard. Padme let out a muffled protest, not expecting this, and then her nostrils were being pinched shut. "Ack ... An ..." she stuttered. A wad of fabric was then shoved into her open mouth; it was punctuated by a sharp aroma, and Padme suddenly realized that she tasted herself.

Anakin kept her nostrils pinched shut for another long, tortuous moment. She could feel his breath on her neck, hear his heavy exhalations, and then as he released his hold on her, she felt his tongue swirl around the shell of her ear.

She moaned into her own panties and Anakin's arm reached around her, grabbing something off the shelf behind her. Something wound around her head, holding the makeshift gag in place, and she felt his fingers scrabbling to tie a tight knot.

"Now," Anakin growled in her ear, "you are under my control, Senator." There was a note of teasing in his voice, but just a hint. He sounded dangerous, wild, the way she imagined he sounded in the field, where his ferocity was a virtue.

She dangled there, whimpering slightly as he ghosted his hands over her body, as though considering what he was going to do. Suddenly he shoved her legs even further apart and there was something slick and hard being shoved inside of her cunt. The pleasant fullness sent waves of heat up and down her spine, especially when Anakin began moving it around and pressing his durasteel knuckle against her clit. She moaned again, knowing he would never allow her to climax so quickly. Sure enough, he pulled back on his ministrations so there was only a mild, slight movement.

"Nnngh," Padme groaned, completely at her husband's mercy.

Anakin continued wiggling the dildo around in her vagina, the head which Padme recognized - it was a personal favorite amongst her handmaidens. Anakin's movements were gentle yet firm; there was no intention to break any skin or cause her pain. "Should I let you come?" he asked as he flicked her clit purposefully and she yelped. There was a smile apparent in his voice, low and husky: "I mean, for the first time."

Padme huffed. Secretly, she thrilled at her husband's touch - it was far too infrequent in every sense of the idea - but was simultaneously nervous about how much time she would be spending playing this little game of control when there were so many more significant things she should be attending to. Seeming to sense the dichotomy of her thoughts, Anakin rammed the dildo further up her twat, and simultaneously traced the hard nub between her legs in a furious circular motion. "You don't have a choice, Senator," he offered, and Padme thought it sounded a little feral. "You're my prisoner. You are my slave."

Padme shivered. It was a game, and yet it wasn't. As much as Padme loved the range of Anakin's emotions - they made him tender in a way she never expected she needed or wanted, and she adored him for that - there was something in his words that made her fear for her life. Still, when her body crossed into the seemingly endless stretch before the agonizing descent into orgasm, the former Queen of Naboo momentarily found herself lost in the sensations, rather than the eerie double-meaning of Anakin's words/threats. When she came, it was with wild abandonment, her eyes tearing behind the blindfold, her lips quivering and moist. The smell and taste of her own cunt seemed to heighten the experience ever more, and Padme bit down on the underwear that Anakin had shoved into her mouth as she sobbed through the pleasure.

Anakin chuckled as the heaving of her chest became less dramatic. "Good girl," he murmured, and Padme stilled as she felt his robotic hand close around her chin, holding her like a prized beast. The effects of the orgasm were wearing off now; her mind, less cluttered with sensations, had resumed its usual state of compartmentalizing her lengthy to-do list and being vaguely irritated by any interruption that was not on her terms. In addition, her wrists were starting to chafe, and a bit of fluid had leaked down her leg, making her thigh itch. She squirmed as Anakin pinched an oversensitive nipple, her breasts supple yet firm. It had been a nice reprieve, her jerking seemed to say, but she had had her fill.

But Anakin was not finished yet. He was, in fact, far from it. "Didn't you hear what I said, m'lady?" he asked, and his voice was once again low, dangerous. His hand dug into his wife's side a little as he fumbled deftly with the rope holding her to the top of her closet. "I said I was going to make you come again. You're not done yet."

When he finished loosing her from the ceiling, Anakin did not unbind Padme's wrists right away. She naturally held them close as they dangled ineffectually in front of her, still bound tightly; though blindfolded, she sensed that her flesh was slightly swelled. She only had a moment to focus on this, however, before she felt Anakin sweep her into his arms, naked and frail, though she worked so hard to be strong. "Mmmf," she squeaked, but heard only the clunking of Anakin's heavy Jedi-issued boots against the floor - he was probably getting dirt everywhere, she thought idly - in response.

"Little senator whore," Anakin called her, and Padme felt him set her down where she suddenly felt carpet fibers under her knees - one of the many large rugs in her otherwise chilly quarters, she guessed. She felt Anakin begin to undo her wrists, and waited patiently, still chewing on her own panties. Feeling rushed back into them, and she stifled a moan. Kindly, Anakin began rubbing at the inflamed area above both of her hands, his fingers soft yet firm. Then, as if he didn't want her to get too complacent, he yanked his wife's arms behind her back, and began re-fastening them together at the same spot - a prisoner again, still, Padme realized, and her heart raced a little in spite of herself. Anakin was indulging her quite generously; the least she could do was make a show of appreciating it, she decided.

Her arms bound once more, Anakin wasted little time securing her further, using objects she recognized from her own collection of toys. More rope criss-crossed around her breasts, down her belly, over more of her arms, and eventually to secure her legs in a slightly uncomfortable and very tight kneeling position. Padme felt her shoes being removed, probably because the heels would have made the position near-impossible, or at the very least, exceedingly painful. Next, Anakin bent her over, and Padme squawked when her face hit a pillow. Anakin helped her to face sideways, and continued with his task. The vibrator in her pussy was removed - Anakin liberally rubbed her clit with his thumb, chuckling when it made Padme squirm; though she had been annoyed by the continuation of their little game a few moments ago, the ministrations nonetheless were making her wet anew. Next, she felt Anakin's moistened digit circling her anus. She squirmed. It was not an activity she partook in very often, and only ever with him.

"Don't worry," Anakin murmured. "I'm not going to fuck you here. Yet." He tapped her ass hole again, and then Padme felt the tug of a small, hardened device stretching her out - a butt plug, also hers, though very rarely used. Sensing her anxiety, Anakin removed the gag from her mouth, though the blindfold remained. Sucking in air, Padme gasped nervously as the plug was fed into her, slowly, Anakin wiggling it with expert precision. He paid attention to her moaned pleas and the tensing of her body, and was possibly using the Force to make sure he was not harming her. Finally, it was all the way in. Padme felt Anakin press on the flat end-piece and groaned.

"Oh, Ani."

He laughed, and then hauled her back up by her arms. "What a pretty little slave you are, m'lady," he told her, and cupped her breasts to fondle them once more. This time, the stimulation seemed to feed right into her pussy, and Padme grunted. Vaguely, she decided she would need Threepio to send this rug out to be washed after they'd finished with whatever Anakin had in store for her - the last thing she needed was for esteemed members of the Senate, or even the Jedi Council to spot her love juices on any of the furniture.

Anakin moved around to her front side. He lifted his wife's breasts with his hands, thumbing the nipples quickly and making her moan. Though she couldn't see his face, she imagined he was grinning most wickedly. A moment later, she felt Anakin's tongue on the hardened nubs on her chest; he sucked at her tits, nibbled them with just the barest amount of teeth, and licked at the tips. Padme's breathing grew erratic. "Ani ... aaahh, Ani," she moaned.

"I know," he chuckled, and Padme couldn't help but laugh. "This is making me really horny," her husband admitted. She heard him stand up and unbuckle his pants, then felt him cup her face again. "My little slut," he laughed. She opened her mouth to protest and he squeezed at her jaw, suggesting/forcing that she keep her mouth open. "Time to earn your keep, slave," Anakin told her, and positioned his cock in front of his wife's face. It was leaking with pre-come, and he purposefully smeared it across Padme's cheeks. She shook her head a little, but accepted his dick in her mouth when he placed it near her lips.

Padme was a cock-sucking goddess. Never one to kiss and tell, she remained firmly silent regarding how she had acquired her technique, but Anakin decided that it mattered not, as long as he reaped the benefits once in a while. Though her hands were bound, Padme made the best of her lips and teeth and tongue, rubbing the head of her husband's dick with the alternating tip and flat of her tongue, and nipping playfully with her teeth. Her mouth eventually made a sheath for Anakin's cock, which he gladly took as an incentive to fuck her throat. He grasped her long-freed hair in a messy ponytail, an almost cruel parody of the intricate styles she usually displayed, and forced his cock back and forth between her lips, reveling in the wet slurping sounds and, occasionally, Padme's slight, choking gasps. "Mmmgh," she offered at one point, and then made a panicked squeak when Anakin deep-throated her and simultaneously pinched her nostrils shut. "Nng," she gasped, her mouth full, her air supply cut off.

"Hold it there," Anakin said mercilessly, and for a long moment, Padme did. She did not, after all, really have a choice in the matter. She was confident that her husband did not mean to kill her, but the act seemed to last an eternity. Finally, Anakin freed her nostrils, and Padme tried to collect the saliva and come in her mouth into some sort of order, willing it not to drip down her chin. She knew there were rumors that she was frigid; in complete honesty, sex was messy and vaguely repulsive to her in theory. She often enjoyed the things her and Anakin got up to, but thinking about them for too long always made her a bit ill. It was just so ... germy.

Eventually, Anakin took his cock out of her mouth. Padme knew he hadn't come yet, and wondered what was in store for her next. She had her answer when she felt Anakin positioning something underneath her - a large massager, she knew. He sat her on it, still bound in a kneeling position, so that it nudged right up against her clit. She tried to anticipate the extreme sensation that it would bring when it turned on, but nothing would quite simulate it mentally. "Aaahh! Ani! Ohhh," she gasped, and squirmed in her bonds frantically. The stimulation was amazingly intense, and the senator struggled to get used to it.

"Does m'lady like that?" Anakin cooed to her, and his hands were again at her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples, lapping at them with his tongue. Her tits were warm, now, fully involved in the various sensations being imposed upon her small body. "I think ... you need nipple clamps," Anakin observed.

Padme's movements stilled. "Oh, Ani, no ..." she pleaded. She had them, of course, but they were another of the devices in her collection that she didn't find particularly conducive to getting off. They pinched, a lot; she had never completely gotten used to them.

But Anakin would have his way, today. "Not 'no', yes," he instructed, and sounded a little like Obi-Wan, even. Still, laughing did not assuage Padme's nervousness. She tensed when she heard him playing with the little claws on the end of the clamps, and let out a small shriek when one did its job, fastening painfully to the end of her nipple. "We'll give it some time to get used to it," Anakin told her. The clamp was removed; suddenly, Anakin used the neighboring clamp on the opposite nipple, removed it, and replaced the first clamp on its charge. He repeated this three or four more times a piece, until both tits were firmly ensconced in the clamps. It still hurt, quite a lot, actually, but the pain now mixed with pleasure, Padme's heaving chest only adding to the stimulation. Below, her cunt was also wet, the vibrator whirring underneath it productively.

"Nice," her husband said appreciatively as he ran his thumb over her lips, first the bottom and then the top. "Very nice."

Padme's squirmed minimalized. Her body still quaked with various sensations: The vibrations against her abused clitoris; the pressure of the tit clamps; the bite of the ropes. It all bled together until it was just a dull, throbbing, light discomfort. Anakin, sensing her complacency, chuckled lowly. "Suck me off," he ordered her, and then his cock was sliding between her lips anew. It did not take long before he was ready to come. Padme heard him grunt as he withdrew his penis and began thumbing the head. When he did come, the ejaculate landed the short distance along Padme's nose, chin, and a few wisps on her forehead and in her hair. "Now you look the part of a whore," Anakin told her, and nudged the still-running vibrator with his foot. Padme whimpered.

Anakin's voice was suddenly behind her. "Do you think I should fuck you now?" he asked. Inwardly, Padme groaned a little. She must have seemed hesitant, because Anakin's follow-up response was much firmer: "Do you deserve for me to fuck you, slave?" he asked.

Padme squirmed. "Can you even perform again this soon?" she asked, a bit tired, the constant stimulation now making her cranky.

"O-ho," Anakin hooted, and suddenly Padme's ass was up in the air, her face once again squashed against the pillow. "My slave thinks she's funny," he announced. Padme felt his fingers toy with the buttplug again. "Perhaps I should show her how funny she is."

"It was a ... serious ... question ..." Padme bit out. Anakin continued to fondle the device in her ass, leaving her hanging in every sense. Two fingers suddenly swept around in her cunt, and she gasped. Anakin pulled the buttplug out of her ass hole.

"A-are you going to fuck me?" Padme asked. Still, Anakin did not answer. Suddenly, a loud slap made her cry out. "Ouch! Ani!"

Anakin smacked her ass again, and then four more times, increasing and decreasing the firmness sporadically. "Maybe I should use a paddle," he suggested, but Padme sobbed out such a negative sound to the offer that he laughed, even a touch contritely. "All right, I won't, but only because you asked so nicely," he offered.

"Thank y-aah!" Padme yelped, her reply interrupted by yet another open-palmed slap.

Anakin began liberally beating her ass for several minutes. He alternated the force and ferocity in a pattern only known to him, occasionally reaching out and 'testing' Padme's cunt for stimulation. The vibrator was no longer against it, but from the feel and the slight scent, it was no longer needed. Stopping the spanking session momentarily, Anakin fitted two fingers into his wife's butt hole, then a third, then his (non-artificial) pinkie. "Close," he said approvingly. "Almost there."

"What's almost there?" Padme asked. Anakin slapped her ass again. "Ow!"

"Slut," Anakin said reprovingly. He fingered her pussy again. "You're such a whore, Padme," he told her. "But you've been a good whore. I think I'll give you a reward for being such a good whore."

"Thank you, Master Jedi," Padme said sardonically. In response, Anakin tugged at the thin chain between her nipple clamps. "OUCH! Owww," Padme hissed.

"Again?" Anakin prompted, and his fingers lingered near one of her abused nubs.

"N-no," Padme wheezed.

"No what?" The wattage of Anakin's smirk was ridiculously high.

"No, please," Padme bit out.

"Good girl." Anakin patted her on the ass. A moment later, he began fumbling with the ropes binding her legs in their current position, and after what felt like an eternity, Padme felt the bonds loosen. Leaving the blindfold in position and her arms tied, Anakin maneuvered her once again into a new position, this time on her back on the large rug. Padme felt the small 'whoosh' of cool air against the backs of her thighs, which were now sweaty from being pinioned against the backs of her calves for so long. She whimpered when she felt Anakin hold her legs akimbo, bent at the knees, his left hand holding her same ankle, his right grasping her right thigh close to her pussy. He squeezed at it with no small amount of tenderness. "Pretty, pretty Senator," he cooed. "So very pretty. With a pretty pussy, too." Then he plunged his gently grasped the outer lips of her vagina with his fingers and plunged his tongue into her cunt.

Padme's entire body quavered. "ANAKIIIINNN," she gasped, and her head fell back against the rug, bumping the floor before she tossed it from side to side a couple of times. Anakin was thorough in his task, nipping at the sides and edges of her inner-private area, and swirling his tongue around the nub, first slow and methodically, and then more purposefully, trying to get her off. Anakin's hands tightened their grip as he clutched at his wife's legs more vigorously, as if it gave him leverage. His breathing was carefully planned; hers, on the other hand, came in bursts and gasps and staggered moans, separately and then all at once.

The build-up for her second orgasm of the day was longer than the first; Padme caterwauled loudly, trying to push herself over the edge, knowing it was impossible without Anakin's help. That he knew it too was the thrilling part. "Come for me," he whispered during a momentary lapse in eating her out. Then he shoved his tongue back into her nether regions, lapping at them thoroughly, a home stretch method of e're there was one.

When Padme finally did come, again, she thought it would never end. When it did, her privates vibrated in the aftermath of the device Anakin had had her sitting on for several minutes. Kindly, Anakin played with her with the fingers of his real hand for several moments after the initial orgasm. Eventually, his digits traveled to her backside. "You're ready," he announced quietly, then paused. "Can I?" The implication was everything; Padme's lips quirked in a smile.

"Go ahead."

Anakin repositioned her one more time, her ass once again in the air. He stroked himself as he stood behind her, his cock newly risen and already slicked with fluids. Padme's ass hole had been carefully opened; slowly, yet with considerable ease, Anakin positioned his penis in front of it and slid himself inside, once again attuning himself with his wife's noises to make sure he was not being too rough.

"You're beautiful," he gasped, and bucked his hips in a slow, experimental circle. Padme's moan was tight, but not pained. It was not difficult to get himself going at a considerable rhythm. He used one hand to grip his wife's side, and fondled his balls a little with the other. "I ... love you ... baby ..." he told her. "Love you so ... fucking m-much."

"I love you too, Ani," she squeaked, carefully turning her head so the other cheek was resting on the oft-used pillow for the moment. She heard her husband's hitched breathing and smiled to herself. He was close. He held out considerably longer than he had back when they had first gotten together, but his arousal was still relatively quick, the climax tell-tale.

When Anakin came, both hands grasped at her hips as he plunged himself as far into his wife as he could go. He held the position through climax, as if savoring how it felt for as long as possible. He mumbled a few times in his own aftermath, and when he didn't pull out after several moments, Padme squirmed a little. "That was ... wonderful," he murmured, and carefully extracted himself from her ass.

Padme's breathing steadied. She heard Anakin's clothing rustle, and felt him move astride of her. He fiddled with the ropes binding her arms first, untying her wrists, and eventually unwinding the ties from around the rest of her body. The nipple clamps came off next, one at a time. Padme hissed in pain as blood and feeling rushed back into the long-pinched area. Anakin massaged her areolas, and then bent his head and licked gently at her swollen tits, respectfully not using his teeth or much pressure. Finally, the blindfold came off, and Padme blinked as her eyes readjusted to the combination of artificial light and Coruscanti skyline.

"I love you," Anakin said again, and gathered her into his arms. Nestled there, Padme could feel both their hearts beat, not entirely synchronized, but close enough for comfort. Her body felt tired, sated and happy; she would need a long bath. The potential bruises on her hips were only shallowly a concern - in truth, nobody else would be seeing up her skirts besides Anakin.

Crooking a finger, said skirt-peeker (and lifter, for that matter) tilted her chin up to meet his. "So," Anakin asked with mischievous casualty. "When's the next Senate meeting?"