A/N Thank you to everyone who reviewed this story. I will take Ahsoka's fate into consideration. Yes, I like the thought of Qui-Gon being Anakin's father. Also, there is MATURE CONTENT in this chapter be warned. Hints of rape in this chapter as well as some domination of Wrath over Satine
Games
Darth Wrath watched the carnage in his wake and smiled as his yellow eyes gleamed with the power of destruction. He was malice, he was destruction, and any of the fools that stood in his way would never stand a chance. First, this Temple. Then, Skywalker, and then the world. The Galaxy would cower at his fingertips, it would quake within the power of his grasp. Darth Wrath felt no pity for the Jedi that had fallen under his power, only the strong could survive. He would attack the remaining temples and finally, he would attack Coruscent sending the Jedi to their doom under his new master, they would become unstoppable, all the power in the Galaxy would be theirs to control. He returned to his flagship, which had been renamed The Wrath of Maul as a tribute to his new Sith name.
"It is done, my master," Darth Wrath said from his kneeling position. "The Jedi will never see it coming, not from one of their own. I will take down the remaining Temples in your name master."
"If you keep that up you will never achieve the element of surprise on Coruscent," Darth Maul told his apprentice. "You may rise," he said, recalling and reveling in the supine position of the former Jedi Master. The irony, of going from a Jedi Master to a Sith apprentice, although in Maul's opinion it was better to serve the Sith than rule the Jedi. "The former Sith Lord Tyrannus must be destroyed. Our master wishes to have the treacherous former Sith disposed of. Do not attack any more Jedi than necessary," Darth Maul told him. "Return me his lightsaber and you may go about your carnage, it is sure to bring the team of Skywalker and Kenobi out."
"And then we will have our revenge."
"Of course, my apprentice," Darth Maul intoned, looking upon his apprentice more than a little fearful, Kenobi had done this to him, made him less powerful, and he would pay, and pay dearly. Darth Maul was meant to be master, and he feared that it was only a matter of time before he was replaced with his apprentice. He had to pass on the knowledge of the Sith before that time, so even if he didn't survive, his knowledge would. There were things he knew about the Dark Side that even Sidious didn't.
He took a look at his prisoner, she was pretty in a beat-up sort of way, since there were still bruises evident on her face. She gasped when she saw him.
"Master Windu?"
"I afraid you are mistaken."
"But you are a Jedi," she argued.
"Not anymore. I am a Sith."
"But you are Master Windu?"
"Appearances are often deceptive," he intoned, and Satine didn't say anymore as all the hope that had filled her evaporated.
He was as corrupt as Maul as any of the other Jedi that had fallen during the Clone Wars. And even though she wasn't a Jedi, she felt something, some startling epiphany it was the reason she had neglected to choose a side during the war. The Clone Wars were never an epic struggle, they were a way of eliminating the Jedi, in cultivating the Sith, in destroying the Jedi. The Clone Wars were never an epic struggle, they were never intended to be. Just the opposite in fact. The Clone Wars have always been, in and of themselves, from their very inception, the revenge of the Sith. They were irresistible bait. They took place in remote locations, on planets that belonged, primarily, to "somebody else." They were fought by expendable proxies, and they were constructed as a win-win situation for the Sith, for the Galaxy however, they were lose-lose, so that no matter who won, the Sith would win and the galaxy would lose.
The Clone Wars was the perfect Jedi trap. By fighting at all, the Jedi lost. She could see that in the once Great Master Windu, he had lost, he had lost himself, and everything he once held dear, in his obsession for destroying Skywalker he had become a Sith. He was no better than Maul. With the Jedi Order, overextended and more and more Jedi dying on remote worlds every day, not to count the number of Jedi that had lost their way, that had turned on their very order, their way of life, they were spread thin throughout the galaxy, each Jedi alone, surrounded only by whatever clone troops he, she, or it commands. War itself poured darkness into the Galaxy, into the Force, deepening the cloud that limits Jedi perception for all but the Chosen One and the followers of the Dark Side.
Duchess Satine had to escape, she had to find Obi and tell him how to win. If only the Jedi had never arrived on Genosis, with that Clone Army. Satine sighed as she glared at her captor. "So you are now a Sith, and what was so great to change the once proud Jedi Master into a Sith underling," she asked, contempt in her voice, despite her nude state.
"You would do well not to provoke me, Wermo."
"I am Duchess Satine."
"You were Duchess Satine, now you are my slave. By lucky I don't sell you to Jabba the Hutt," Wrath said cruelly. "When I address you as Wermo you will answer me."
"I will not."
"Perhaps, you would find it more agreeable on a slave aution block," he asked. "Trust me, Wermo, you are better off serving me than the Galaxy, I could easily give you to the Gommorians, and see what they would do with you." Satine shivered at the image and moaned in pain as he place nipple clamps on her chest. He smiled cruelly. "Soon you will learn to enjoy the freedoms I give you, Wermo. I look forward to breaking you."
"You will never break me."
"Oh, my dear, we are going to have such fun," he said, clapping his hands together, with a smile on his face as he dressed her. With her hands bound and suspended from the ceiling of the starfighter she couldn't do much but talk, for her legs were shackled and chained around the ankles, making her helpless to him. The weight from her chest was painful, but soon the pain began to dull. He pulled a black low cut top on her over the nipple clamps, so that the buttons on it which were done up rubbed against her swollen chest. The shirt was only buttoned to cover up her nipples, exposing most of her breasts, the shirt ended right under her breasts exposing her abs to view. Luckily, this Sith dressed her in pants although the black pants were so tight she was thankful she was standing rather than sitting as they seemed to be a second skin on her body. He then placed her feet into thirteen centimenter heels, so that when she could walk, it would be ungainly. "Thank me for the clothes, Sleemo." Wrath told her.
Satine was shocked at the commanding tone of his voice. She looked at him dumbfounded as she saw a laser-whip in his hand. She felt fear crawl inside of her, making her heart pound, but she had never been one to give into fear before. She swallowed over the lump in her throat, and spoke with a clear, strong voice. "I am the Duchess of Mandalore, I will not thank you for this sorry excuse for clothing." She was rewarded with the sharp sting of the whip against her back.
"Thank me or I will see you paraded around in nothing at all." The Duchess sighed, she didn't do submissive behavior, but she didn't wish to follow around this new Sith in the nude. She saw the small vibroblade he held at her throat.
"Do it," she told him. He smiled at her and instead of ending her life he made two insisions at the swell of her breasts where blood dripped down, trailing down her body. It was painful and Satine bit her tongue to keep from crying out. The Dark Lord bent down and licked at the blood that the open wound had exposed. She recoiled from the touch of the Dark Lord as he laughed, heady with the power of her fear.
"You are mine, now we will repeat this until you thank me." Satine sighed, what was the use in being stubborn.
"Thank you," she said in a tight voice, as his lips sucked the blood from the wound. He was a sadist of the worst kind she thought.
"You will address me as Master," he said, stopping his ministrations long enough to give her orders. "Now what was that, Sleemo?"
"Master, thank you for the clothes," she said, through clenched teeth. He nodded, seemingly appeased.
"We are making a stop on Tattooine to make you a proper slave, Sleemo, then we will head to Coruscent, Darth Tyrannus needs to be dealt with."
Satine's spirits dropped and then raised, if she could survive Tattooine, she could find Obi-Wan, she could be saved, she just had to survive Tattooine, she thought. She wondered what horrors could possible await her there and if she would have the strength to with stand them.
