Ear-splitting screams bring your focus back to reality. You feel the rushing stampede from where you were lying on the wet trembling floor and suddenly, realizing that your attackers were gone, you draw a breath through clenched teeth. Sharp pain spreads from your side to the rest of your body – feeling it battered and wet – and you press your lips together stifling a pained grunt while trying to move something, anything. The sting on your split lips reminds you of the punch one of those brutes managed to give you while you were trying to squirm away from the group of men that was closing in on you. You taste blood when you sweep your tongue over the wound, shivering, looking at the starry night – wondering if today had rained at all.

You hear the explosion of a nearby building, but the screams do not seem to get any louder. People still rush in every direction, herded by flashes of white, and you will yourself to move but it's too painful, everything is too painful, your left side seems to be especially fucking painful. Unconsciously, your hand flies to your wet wounded ribs and of course one of those bastards must have sliced you up to make you more compliant. Fear and anger grip you and you wiggle pathetically on your pool of blood, managing to roll onto your uninjured side.

That slight movement seems to drain the very little strength that was left in you. Now you can see the Stormtroopers chasing the villagers away and hear the screams dying. That's it, there is no other way but to accept the defeat of your body, but fear still lingers while you await death and you don't understand the feeling, there was nothing you could fear losing. Your sight is unfocused and you seem uncappable of breathing properly – the ground is shaking but the screams are dying and black feet are in front of you.

You wake up comfortably surrounded in silky bedsheets, having never felt as well rested as you feel now. You turn around, basking in this new and rare feeling, but a metallic sound startles you. The dizziness in your mind is immediately sobered up when you see your nakedness, looking down, down, down your body and keeping your stare fixed on the metallic cuff around your right ankle – processing.

A rather long chain was attached to the cuff and you followed its length with your eyes until it disappeared down the edge of the large bed. You felt your heart hammering against your ribcage – not much besides the words sex and slave where crossing your mind – neither had you time to ponder anything more when the door in front of you slid open.

You've heard of him, of course you did, and you brushed the descriptions away as exaggerated rumors caused by fear. But he is so damn tall and broad and imposing and – against your will you shiver while staring at his mask, how many have died under this very same sight?

"Too many."

Now you're completely frozen. Oh no, was that true as well?! Why were you here? What was happening? Weren't you supposed to be dead? If you weren't, at least you were quite sure you would be soon.

Again, your thoughts are cut short as he waves a hand and the cuff around your ankle falls open. In a single step, he's at the edge of the bed, grabbing your recently freed leg and tugging it. You gasp and land ungracefully on the floor, before you can push yourself off it, one of his hands is already circling your neck and pulling you on your feet. You try to keep up with his pace but your steps feel so short beside his. His hand still painfully tight around your neck, pushing and pushing, until you reach another door that slides open and drops you inside the new room.

"I can smell the whole medical bay on you," he says, even with his voice modulator, you can hear the disgust in his tone. "Clean yourself, pet. You have ten minutes."

The door closes behind him and you look around the monochromatic refresher. If you were under different circumstances you would be a bit put off by the rich black marble. Still in a daze, you make your way towards the shower you see on the corner, turning it on, muscles immediately relaxing beneath the warm water.

You take another look at yourself, your injuries were healed. Your hand skims across your left ribs and you see your skin as good as it's always been, not even a scar. You wet your lips with your tongue, this time you cannot taste blood. Then it dawns on you. Pet. Did he just say pet? What?!

You start at the sudden blow against the refresher's door.

Right.

Using whatever kind of soap you find at your reach, you begin to scrub yourself as fast as you can.

Just as you were drying your skin with the nearest towel, Kylo Ren walks back in with his long stride. Feeling small and anxious as he approaches, you cover yourself with the black cloth. He looms over you, clutches the fabric and tosses it to the side.

"I – B– but –" you say, stuttering as he grips your neck and shoves you again.

"You will cover yourself when you earn it, pet."

Earn it?! What?!

"Stop mumbling like a fool."

Back at the bedroom, he throws you onto the mattress and chains back your ankle. When you turn around to look at him he's already leaving and the door closes behind him. You stand on your feet and try to reach the door, the chain attached to you is long, but not enough to let you get near the exit. You try to push against it, but the bed doesn't budge. Resigned, you look around the rather unfurnished room. There was a long wardrove that you could not reach at one corner and two small bedside tables. On top of one, a single glass with water.

You pace around the bed as far as your restraint allows. Where did you get yourself into? Better yet, how did you get yourself into this? How were you still alive? You remember his words – a pet, he said – and you look down your nakedness.

You're shivering and you can't keep the tears welling up in your eyes. You look at the bedding and wonder if getting beneath it would count as covering yourself. You don't care. What could be worse than this? Death? So be it.

You open your eyes but darkness surrounds you, have you fallen asleep while crying? Pitiful, you vowed to yourself long ago to never be taken by despair and keep going on.

You stir a bit and feel the chain winding up your leg. Trying to untangle it, you freeze on your side when you feel the movement behind you. His body presses against the back of yours and brings a hand up to your neck, just laying it there, wrapping your throat. Then, at the top of your head you feel – his nose? Is that his nose? You're bewildered by it – he has a nose.

"Hush."

You stop breathing when you hear his undistorted voice, he sounds so… human. He squeezes your neck once – a warning. You take small sips of air, keeping your mind blank, focusing on the feeling of the soft bedding, the naked fingers around your neck, the nose against your hair – the heart at your throat.

You're still drowsy when you're tugged off bed. You lose your footing and fall face first on the floor.

"Useless thing," you hear the distorted voice, complaining.

There's warmth spreading from your neck to the rest of your face as Kylo Ren picks you up tightly from your neck and pulls you back on your feet. He pushes you towards the same direction you went last time. When you find yourself in the 'fresher you look at him with questions that die in your throat.

"I would rather not have you pissing on my bed," he says. "You have five minutes, pet."

You can still feel the burning on your face from before. You want to ask him so many things. Where were you? Why did you survive? What could he possibly want with you? – sex? He hasn't done anything thus far! – and why? Why? Why you?!

You do follow his orders, if he's brought you here it means you've got several hours of chained alone time to look forward to.

When you're done, you curiously approach the mirror over the sink. Well, you do not look too… bad… the cut on your lips is completely gone – as you guessed – but so are the bags under your eyes. It is a wonder what a comfortable bed can do to –

Your stomach grumbles. And damn it aches. Wait, how long has it been since you last ate something?

Kylo Ren comes back, and you already walk towards him – not wanting more fingers on your throat and hurried pushes. Still, he curls his hand around your neck but lets you walk at your own pace the short distance to the bedroom.

He takes his hand away and you sit at the edge of the bed, looking at your feet. You see his hands work the cuff back on your ankle, you hear him turning around to leave. But you –

"May I…?" You manage to say, voice strained.

He is frozen in place, his back to you, waiting. At least you think its waiting.

"I – I'm hungry. May I have some – food?" What has gotten into you?!

This time he does turn around to face you but you cannot find the courage to look at that mask. In a single step, he is in front of you, griping your jaw and making you look at him.

"Hungry enough to suck my cock and feed on my cum?" He says.

You stare at the cold mask – wide eyed – and he must have seen your answer in your facial expression, because no thought was crossing your mind. He releases your jaw and turns away.

"Apparently not. You will be, pet."

Your stomach aches again. You push yourself towards one of the small bedside tables and take a sip from the now half empty glass, it seems to help for a few minutes. You try not to drink too much – you don't know how long it will be before you're permitted to go back to the 'fresher.

Time felt so slow when the only thing you could do was roll on top of a bed or walk beside it. You don't sleep. You're tired of sleeping. Instead, you build your anger, it makes you feel braver. It makes you ready for the next time you'll see him. You want answers, not more questions.

You move to sit on the floor, back resting against the edge of the bed, tugging and spinning your ankle cuff when finally, Kylo Ren decides to grace you with his presence.

"Fuck you," you spit at him as you stand up.

He doesn't move. You feel bolder.

"I'm not your fucking pet. I'm tired of this fucking waiting game," so, so bolder. "I'm not fucking afraid of you," too bolder. "So go ahead, fucking kill me already!"

Without realizing, you've approached him as far your chain allowed and you're looking up at his mask, daring.

"Insolent," he says. There's a sudden pressure against your chest as you're shoved on your back. "Disrespectful," he continues, but you're shocked. "Ungrateful," you're pinned by some invisible restraint against the top of his bed, hands over your head, legs slightly parted.

You brush away your shock and try to look at him. He is removing his cowl and setting it in his wardrove. Then his wide belt and long robes. Then his padded armor. He turns around and moves towards you, his boots suddenly thudding loud against the floor. He rolls the thin fabric of his undershirt up to his elbows. You see some scars on his forearms.

Instinctively, you clench your cunt as a wave of arousal floods you. From his mask, you hear what must have been a snort.

You close your eyes and pray for the burning on your face to go away.

The mattress dips at your feet and you open your eyes in time to see Ren towering over you. He kneels on one leg between your own, grabs both from under your knees, spreads them further, and pulls them higher.

Your whole body is burning now – you've never felt so helpless and exposed.

"I don't like bratty pets," he says. "I like obedient toys."

You shiver at the way those words sound through the low distortion of his mask. The invisible restraint that kept your head in place disappears, but the rest of your body is still being held.

"Which one do you choose to be?"

You cannot answer, your heart is beating too fast and your breathing is erratic. He is sitting on his knees between your spread thighs, you cannot tear away your eyes from the bulge against his pants.

He bends over you, one gloved hand rests against the mattress beside your head, the other is set under your jaw – long fingers resting on your cheeks.

"Open," you obey. The hand under your jaw moves to caress your open lips, then dips two fingertips and rubs them against the front of your tongue. "You're full of irrelevant questions. You keep tormenting yourself with whys and hows. You need to understand. None of that matters anymore."

His fingers push down your throat, making you gag on them, but he keeps them still, pressing down your tongue.

"You will bend for your master," your eyes cloud with tears. "You will be an obedient toy," he begins to move his fingers in long, slow thrusts. "You will be a good pet."

Tears stream down the sides of your face, but you keep clenching your cunt – so wet. Ren removes his now heavily moistened fingers and brings them down your body, letting them hover over your clit. His mask is still angled at your tear and saliva smeared face.

"What do you choose to be?" he reminds you. You want to move your hips just a bit higher – you need his fingers to touch you. "Answer, pet!"

"I'll be a good pet, master," you manage to say.

His fingers press against you, rubbing the wonderfully slickened glove against your clit. You close your eyes and let go a long deep moan, the muscles on your hips still want to rock back and forth against the friction but you're being held so tightly. He stops.

"Eyes open and on me, pet," you fix your eyes on his mask. "Good."

He rewards you with those same fingertips inside your empty hole, then brings them back to keep rubbing your nub. You moan – mouth open – looking straight at the visor of his mask. The tension keeps building up on your lower abdomen the longer he keeps his rhythmic pace on you, and it's harder and harder to keep your eyes open. But you fight against the closing of your lids, if you let them shut, he'll stop, you cannot let that happen, not when you're going up, up, up –

He takes it away. A harsh blow lands on the inside of your thigh.

"Were you going to cum on my fingers, filthy toy?!" Another blow lands on the inside of your other thigh, you scream, another tear rolls down the side of your cheek. "Did I allow you to cum?"

"No, master," you say, whimpering.

"Clean your filth," he shoves his covered fingers back in your mouth, you roll your tongue between them and suck against them, tasting yourself. "Bratty pets that throw tantrums don't get to cum."

Before pulling his hand away, he makes you gag on it for a few seconds, covering you in more tears and spit. Your acidic taste still lingering on your tongue. You were being torn apart. It was mortifying that – considering your current condition – the only thing you could think about was the throbbing between your legs and how the sting of the blows on your thighs only seemed to heighten it.

"Wicked thing, look at yourself," he says, sneering, but you don't have time to ponder on the humiliating sight you must be for him. His fingers are back to where you want them, and he chuckles when you prove his point with your moans. "I have a lewd pet. So desperate to cum on her master's fingers."

Something twists inside of you when he tells you he's yours, and you cannot help it. "Yes, master. Please I want to cum. Please let me cum."

He groans and increases his pace on your sensitive clit.

"She even begs," you're already heading towards the edge, building up your orgasm faster from the previous stimulation. "Where did your fierceness go, pet?"

Keeping your eyes on his mask, your body is on the verge of releasing its tension and you prepare for the pleasure that's going to take over you. You let go a cry of desperation when he moves away.

This time, he lands a blow on your tear smeared cheek. Your head rolls to the side, but he grips it tightly, turning you to face him again. The hand that was on your cunt opens your mouth and his two wet fingers thrust inside.

"Bratty pets who cover themselves under the bedsheets don't get to cum," you're surprised you've not yet suffocated with the way the leather rubs deep in your throat. "I will always remember your disobedience and you will be punished for every offence."

You were running out of air now, there was too much spit you could not swallow on the back of your throat, his fingers still fucking your mouth. When you start feeling light-headed, he stops his pounding. You swallow your saliva as soon as you feel empty and for a moment you gag on it.

The hand that was keeping your face in place circles your neck and the one that disappeared sticks the torturous fingers deep inside your pussy and curls the tips upwards to rub against your g-spot. His thumb rolling your abused clit.

You scream again. You cannot do this. You cannot take this. Everything aches – your limbs from their strained position and your clit from the relentless attention – and yet… yet he is building you towards the edge once more. You sob. Broken. He will not let you – you know he won't.

But as you keep going up rationality falls back and you hope – just once – please –

He pulls his hand away as you're about to fall. You sob.

Ren tightens the grip on your neck, stifling your sobbing, and hits your swollen pussy with his other hand. You don't have enough air to scream properly. "You don't learn your lesson," he says, annoyed, and spanks you again – this time harder. "Stubborn!" He lands another blow. Your pleasure is gone, the leather of his gloves bites viciously your sensitive cunt. "When will you realize your pleasure does not matter, pet? Stop chasing it!" Another spank, he softens the grip on your neck, letting you scream and sob once more. "A pity. I'll need another pet. You're incorrigible."

Something breaks further inside of you. Without thinking, you find your voice through your whimpers.

"Please master, no, please–" you don't make much sense and look at his mask with begging eyes full of tears. "I want to please you master, please – please let me show you how much I want to please you, master…" you keep begging, brokenly.

He leans over you, the hand on your neck moves to cup the right side of your face, the muzzle of his mask presses against the other.

"Good pet," the words vibrate on your skin. "You did learn."

You didn't know there was fear inside of you until it disappeared and left you with a bizarre – peace.

"Show me how much you want to please me, pet."

He releases his invisible restraint. You let out a painful groan when your aching muscles succeed in moving your limbs. Your master moves to get off bed and stand on the floor. It's unbelievable how much it hurts to lower your arms and straighten your legs.

"You have twenty seconds to be on your knees and have my cock in your mouth, pet," he says.

You scramble on your hands and knees over the mattress, ignoring the pain as much as you could – your limbs are not strong enough to hold you upright – so you crawl down the bed to the floor and set yourself on your knees between his parted feet. You fly your hands to the front of his pants and with hasty movements – eager to prove the worth of his pet – you free his hard cock.

When you look at his thick shaft you can't help but swallow. You decide to look up at the visor of his mask – remembering how he praised you for keeping your eyes on him – and run your tongue along the underside of his cock, from base to tip, and close your lips gently over the head.

A hand goes in your hair and grips it. "Good pet," his praises comfort you. "Keep your hands on your back," he says when you were going to set a hand around his base. Behind you, with your right hand, you grip the wrist of your left. "My pet does know how to please and submit after all."

"Yes, master," you say against his cock. You alternate small sucking motions with your lips and strokes with your tongue, slickening him to later take him with more ease.

When you turn your attention back to the head, you see a bead of precum sliding down the tip, you engulf it and suck. The grip in your hair tightens. You part your mouth as much as you can and go down on him. Your spit makes it easier to move, but there is not much you can manage inside of you without risking a choke. You move back and forth slowly, unsure of your movements – you've never had someone like him, and always had the help of your hands.

"I'll help you, pet," both of his hands are at back of your head and he pulls you while thrusting forward. You shut your eyes as they fill again with tears, and choke against the base of his cock. A continuous, long stream of spit falls over your breasts. He keeps you there, not letting you move. "Look at me, pet." You open your eyes and with tears streaming down your face you do your best to look at the mask.

He pushes you back and pulls himself out, his right hand grabs the base of his cock and smears the tip – dripping with precum – over your gaping lips as you breathe again.

You keep looking at him, still drooling over yourself, tears falling, you're completely covered in spit now – but he sounds so proud when he speaks to you.

"You're perfect, my toy. This is how I would always have you," he says.

"I want to please you, master," you say, and lick his tip to prove him, you want him to believe you, you don't know what you will do if he –

"You're hungry enough to feed on my cum, pet," he says, he does not question it. You shiver when you remember his promise from before he went away. He did not question it, but you wished to answer.

"Yes, master."

"Open."

You open wide and he guides the head of his cock back inside, he removes the hand from his base and places it back behind your head. Keeping you still with both hands while he pounds deep inside you. It is a miracle that you are still clutching your hands behind your back as he fucks you. You cannot hear your choking anymore, the longer he keeps his pace the more distant his grunts grow. When you start feeling dizzy he pulls back and lets you gulp two deep breaths before pushing back in.

His thrusts don't keep going for long this time. He buries himself deep, and his whole body becomes taut as he shoves his cum down your throat.

"Swallow, pet," he says. Through your choking you manage to flex your throat and swallow, even though it makes you gag more on his cock. He pulls out as he is slowly losing his hardness, you swallow down what remains of his cum as you look back up at him. "In the future, I expect to not repeat this lesson," he untangles a hand from your hair and brushes his thumb against your swollen wet lips. "You do not get to cum, filthy toy, my punishment stands."

You want to sob, but it won't come out of your neck. The remaining hand that was at the back of your head is now squishing your windpipe as if to force it out. He bends to look closer at you.

"And I don't want you to even think about touching yourself," this time you let go your pitiful whimper. "Understood, pet?"

"Yes, master," you whisper – faintly weeping.

He releases you and rearranges his pants and underwear over his crotch.

"Good toy," with a wave of his hand, you feel the cuff around your ankle falling open. "Good behavior is rewarded. You will do good to remember that. Do not test me, pet."

Kylo Ren leaves once more. You're still kneeling, aching, ignoring with all your remaining strength the burning of your cunt. You don't know what to make of the small freedom he has granted you.