Revan regarded the lithe form in front of her, while Bastilla's back was still turned.
Revan's tongue briefly flicked out, lightly moistening her lips, before they pursed again, contemplatively.
Her eyes trailed downwards further, until they drifted strayed to the pert, upturned posterior, shifting slightly with the movement of her hips and lingering there for several moments.
She pressed her lips into a thin line, her imagination quickly overwhelming her.
Revan veritably radiated dominance.
Bastilla's steps slowed and she now trailed behind her, tilting her head slightly and consigned to her duty to the reformed dark jedi/Sith.
...Recollections of her tenure as the Dark Lord, this time, with Bastilla as one of several hundred pleasure slaves, flitted through her mind. The leather constricted her ample endowments and desirous attributes, and the short chain bound her to the foot of the "throne". She would have been a delightful pet, perhaps even a personal favorite, to the former Dark Lord. She shook off the fantasy, with the slightest hint of subconcious regret.