Recap: The Mandalorian paid for a night of passion with the shy brothel-girl Yska, known professionally as Tamry. She enjoyed their time together even after her past trauma, and wished it didn't have to end.… But thoughts like that threatened her freedom…and that scared her.

Dedication: This is for my awesome friend, MC Adair

The Mandalorian's Reward

By Noelle Scribe

Chapter Two - The Deal

The morning broke, cold and drizzly. The Mandalorian hadn't slept well. In fact, he'd barely slept at all. Long, pale curls and sad eyes had him tossing and turning.

He'd paid for the girl's services for the whole night, but hadn't pressed it when she'd fled. He knew self-preservation coping skills when he saw them. He'd seen them often enough. She'd been afraid even though he'd given her comfort and pleasure - something she had obviously lacked with others. Perhaps that had scared her more than the pain and degradation she'd expected.

He'd soothed her tears and her fears…and she'd allowed herself to give in to the pleasures he offered.

His defection had awakened, yet…all he could think about was Tamry.

She was young and pure - too pure for the likes of this life. That wouldn't hold true in another year or so. For some reason, that thought didn't sit well with him. It nagged at his mind.

He didn't know her. She wasn't anything to him. Why should he care?

He threw the sheets off and made his way to the shower.

He pleasured himself to the memory of her sounds and her softness and the pliable give to her plush lips. He longed to taste them. To feel them tingle against his own lips. To see his cum dripping from them.

I couldn't stop feeling her orgasm around his cock. Couldn't stop seeing her succulent lips part open in a tortured cry. Couldn't stop wanting to protect her from others who'd leave bruises on her soul.

But such a union was not meant for a warrior with a defection.

Even if she was a hidden gem among the rubble...he was a hunter. That line of work didn't lend well to serious relationships. He wasn't yet ready to remove his helmet for good. Not yet.

Armor secured once more, the bounty hunter grabbed his gear and made his way downstairs. Only a handful of staff were up and about so early, prepping the morning meal. He purchased a few meals to go, settled up the rest of his brothel fees, and waited at the counter.

Just then, the Kitonak entered from a back room, yawning sleepily. She spotted the Mandalorian and made her way over with a glint in her beady black eyes.

"Did the service last night meet your needs?" the madam leered.

"Yes. Good choice," he answered flatly, looking toward the kitchens and drumming his fingers.

"Well, we look forward to your next visit. Whenever you're in this sector, I'll give you a ten percent loyalty discount!"

She waddled away as his take-out was delivered.

He took three steps towards the exit…before he stopped.

He was going to regret what he was about to do...he just knew it. But…he'd regret not doing it even more.

He turned around and hailed the madam. Madam Tondah Bettle padded over enthusiastically with her death-stick dangling from her wrinkled mouth.

"Can I help you with something else, sir?"

"How much do you want for the girl?"

"The price would be the same as last night. I have some rooms by the hour if you don't want to stay another night. Would you like to sample another girl this time?"

He held up his hand. "No, I mean...how much to buy out Tamry's contract?"

"Tamry...?" She flicked the death-stick's ashes with a furrowed brow. "Oh, yes. Forgive me, it's early. We use stage names here. Tamry is a sweeter name than Yska," she sneered. "Patrons pay for candy, not some human proverb."

"Was Yska the girl you brought me last night? The blonde human?"

He preferred the name Yska over the cliched street walker alias. Yska sounded sweet enough to him. She'd felt that way, too.

"Yes, sir. I'm afraid she's not for sale. You see, Yska's new. She's young and strong and she's still got a lot of work left in her. But," her eyes turned sly, "you're welcome to visit her...for a price. Just like everyone else."

She took a draw of her putrid death-stick.

The Mandalorian leveled the Kitonak with the weight of his hulking presence. "Everything's for sale. Name your price."

His presence radiated danger.

The madam picked up on the energy, because she back-peddled slightly.

"Well, now," her eyes turned smug, "it would be an impolite amount, I'm afraid. You see, I'd have to recover my costs for housing her and break even on monies still owed on her contract. And I have to consider the future profits I'd be losing by letting her go."

"I'm not in the habit of repeating myself, Bettle," he stated flatly, standing straighter. The Kitonak only came up to his midsection.

He continued to stare. He knew the effect the faceless visor could have. The tension - like the silence - built.

He waited for her to squirm.

It took a little bit longer than most - she'd been around the block a few times. Bettle wasn't a stranger to the rougher side of life. But, in his experience, eventually everyone cracked.

She sighed. "Fine. Make me a reasonable offer and I won't refuse. You're wearing full beskar, so don't get stingy on me."

When he spoke again, his tone was deliberate and full of authority. "Five thousand chits. That should more than cover your cost."

"Eight thousand. Cash. There's not much tread on her. In the slave trade, that's hard to find."

"Deal."

He would have paid ten without blinking.

The suns were just starting to peek through the dingy windows of the brothel dormitory. More like barracks, in Yska's opinion.

Her eyes were red with dark circles. She hadn't slept a wink. Instead, she'd huddled in her lumpy bed, listening to the slow, rhythmic breathing of her dorm mates. Waiting for the suns to wash the night away.

The Mandalorian's gentleness had stung her...adding to the sting when Dex had sold her to the pleasure traders after he'd gotten what he'd wanted.

The Mandalorian had offered her a morsel of kindness in a lifetime with so little of it. She had resigned herself to a lifetime without it. What stung most was that…now it would be gone.

No one had ever really wanted her. Her parents hadn't wanted her. Yska and her younger sister had been left on the steps of a dilapidated orphanage when she was very young. A nice young couple had adopted her little sister...but not her.

She'd eventually aged out of the system and had met Dex. No wonder she'd cleaved desperately to the first person who'd shown her a sliver of affection. Dex had been charming, suave, and promised safety. She'd been easy prey for him.

She hadn't guessed Dex had been a slave reconnoiterer.

She'd accepted that her lot in life was to be abandoned.

She supposed she was good for little else but brothel work at this point, since she had nothing to fall back on.

But last night had opened a doorway to hope. A dangerous thing. Maybe there could be some future where someone wanted something good for her. It was possible there was someone who could even want her even as worthless as she felt.

And maybe that someone came in the shape of a certain tall, masked warrior. And that, too, was a dangerous thought.

Yska knew it was a silly fantasy. She knew it was because she was young and desperate to fill a void. And she knew that it would never happen.

Sunrays crept over the wood floor. The light did nothing to ward off the chill in the room...or her heart. Yska shivered, regretting the night of lost sleep.

Tondah would want her working the floor now that she'd healed. The Kitonak would chastise her again: "You were worth a few pretty coins, girl, and I expect you to make all that back for me. With interest!"

Yska tried to shake the thought from her mind.

She wished she could just view the work like the other girls - a business exchange, a service rendered, a simple physical labor. The others were hardened to it. But Yska...she'd always had fantastical notions of romance. She'd thought Dex had been special enough to share that with the first time. Obviously she'd been wrong.

So, how could she trust herself now if she hadn't known in the first place whom to trust then? If life was bound to be a disappointment, perhaps she'd just have to take all the meager scraps she could get without care...like the other prostitutes.

Only look out for yourself, because no one else will, the others had warned. Take all you can get and leave them wanting.

But…Yska found herself wishing she could go back to that room upstairs and peek under that mysterious helmet. Just to see if those strange markings colored an equally strange and handsome blue face. A face that might wear a smile just for her.

"Yska," the Kitonak hissed. Only the lightest sleeper stirred and covered her head with her blankets. The alarm would be sounding soon enough.

Yska startled, clenching her arms around her legs tightly. The madam waddled closer and sat on the edge of Yska's bunk. The Kitonak seemed to be bubbling with excitement - which Yska had only ever seen in conjunction with lots of creds.

"What is it, Madam Bettle?" Her voice was scratchy from lack of sleep.

"Yska, gather up all your things. Your contract has been purchased."

A bolt of freezing terror ran through the human's core. "W-what?"

"Your contract. It's paid up. You've been sold. I made a hefty profit with interest to spare!"

The madam pulled Yska's drawers open and started packing the girl's meager things into a sack.

"Who...who bought me?" Yska swallowed. She numbly watched her few possessions disappear into the rucksack.

"Why, the Mandalorian, my girl! My, my, you must have quite the cootch to have ensorcelled him! I thought he was upset when I saw you come back early - he paid for the whole night, after all. But…whatever you did made an impression. I bet the girls would want to know your secret! But then, I'd lose out on all my commissions...so, keep it to yourself, will ya?"

Yska stood, fingers fidgeting. "Madam Bettle...I swear I didn't do anything special. I just...I think I was more of a wreck than anything."

"Then chalk it up to your pretty face and thank the gods, girl. This is your ticket off this dust bucket. I'll pray he treats you kindly." She patted the blonde's face. "Now, get dressed."

She set the rucksack down for Yska to finish packing, bustling out of the room as the morning alarm went off. Groans of annoyance arose. A mass of feminine limbs stretched from underneath threadbare covers.

Yska hurried to don a pair of simple leggings, a tunic, jacket, and boots. She finished sanitizing her mouth with a sonic brush and secured the last of her toiletries into the bag.

Yska stared at her life condensed into the small rucksack. Wasn't this what she had wished for last night? For the Mandalorian to take her away from this life? So…why was she so afraid?

She gazed at the notches staring back at her on her bedpost. Her eyes stung. They wouldn't be able to haunt her anymore.

Even if the warrior turned out to be rough, at least he'd be the only man she'd have to sleep with.

Before turning to leave, a shadow fell over her bed.

Imalyn, the jealous Zabrak, loomed over her. She glared.

"Heard you made a kriff-load from the Mando yesterday. Heard it was enough to get you outta this shithole. That's some persuasive pussy ya got there." She scowled, voice gruff. "No one ever gets outta here. No one. Not in the forty years I've worked the floors."

The others stilled, scenting a fight in the air.

Yska didn't want to fight... She'd heard the older woman talk of her days as a cage brawler. Yska knew she didn't stand a chance if the woman demanded blood.

"Guess so." Yska tried to sound casual and non-confrontational. "Good thing Tondah took seventy-five percent of my cut."

"What?" Imalyn's fists clenched at her side.

"Madam Bettle said…she said she was taking the majority of my commission…to spread out amongst you all."

"We never saw so much as a single cred, did we girls?" Imalyn asked the onlookers. The girls hummed their agreement. "Since when has Tondah Bettle ever parted with ill-gotten credits? Sounds like she played you for a fool, human." Imalyn's toned arms folded over her bodybuilder chest. "Just like your Dex."

Yska flinched. She shouldn't have let the insult get to her, but it did. The betrayal was still too fresh. She suspected it always would be.

With a scowl, the Zabrak withdrew a dagger from the small of her back

The girls gasped.

Imalyn raised the dagger to Yska's face.

Yska's stomach flushed cold. The light glinted off the sharp steel only inches from her eyes.

Imalyn smirked. "Kalinga. In the Dathomirian tongue, it means Protector. It has been in my family for generations. I keep it razor sharp. You wouldn't even know you were cut until a minute later, when the blood starts to flow."

Imalyn expertly twirled the blade in her grasp.

"Dex. Tondah. Me. You seem to have a poor sense of knowing whom to trust, Yska…until the knife is buried in your back."

Yska should have known this life would claim her one way or another. She just hated that it would happen right before her chance at freedom. Yska squeezed her eyes shut. Better to get it over with quickly.

She expected to feel the blade slide into her chest or her throat.

She had not expected the Zabrak to slide the dagger's hilt…into her grasp.

Yska's eyes shot open.

Imalyn was handing the dagger to Yska.

The Zabrak sighed through her nose.

"I take care of the girls here, human. You are one of my girls," Imalyn said, eyes filled with softness.

"You could have escaped with this. Wouldn't you rather use it on Tondah?" Yska floundered.

"You need it more. Take it. As for Tondah…that greedy Kit will get what's coming to her, you can be sure of that." The brawler's smile was bloodthirsty. Yska could see a shadow of the infamous gladiator behind it.

Imalyn squeezed Yska's hold over the leather hilt. "If the Mando ever hurts you...use it when he sleeps. Get the hell out of this life and make it your own. For me... For all of us. Ya hear?"

Yska nodded with misting eyes.

She and the Zabrak clasped forearms before Yska pulled the older woman into a hug. An understanding passed between them.

Imalyn pulled away first, patting her back roughly. The Zabrak appeared unaffected, save for a tight mouth and a small sniffle. She played it off by clearing her throat.

The dagger found a safe home in the sack with Yska's belongings.

Yska held her head high as she made her way to the exit. No one said a word against her as she walked out the door…and into her new life.

The Mandalorian waited against the wall near the exit. His mind was racing.

He wasn't prepared to house a permanent resident on his ship. He'd have to get some more supplies to compensate for an extra mouth to feed. And the girl would likely need some clothes and necessities. Maybe something to keep her entertained and busy.

What had he just done?

And yet...he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not when he saw the girl emerge from the back door, illuminated by a morning sunbeam through the window. Not when the mere sight of her made his lips tingle.

The human looked wholesome in her simple garb - hair gathered in a ponytail and a rucksack slung over her shoulder. He preferred her natural and unfettered by dyes or artificial scents.

She followed the madam with an air of quiet determination in her sleep-starved eyes. Eyes that met his visor more easily in the light of day.

"I've sent the contract to your comm. Thank you for your patronage, Mandalorian," Madam Bettle kowtowed.

The Kitonak turned to the human, patting her cheek. "Now, remember your training and be obedient, Yska. We'll miss you…and your credit-magnet cooch."

"Thanks, Tondah...I guess," the human said, her voice rough from a sleepless night. Either that, or emotion. "I'm sure Imalyn and the other girls will really appreciate your generous dispensing of my cut. I know Imalyn is dead set on thanking you, in fact."

Was it the Mandalorian's imagination, or did that sound like some sort of threat?

Did he see a bead of sweat trickle down the madam's copious rolls of blubber?

Perhaps the shy little human had a bit of spunk to her after all. Perhaps he could draw out more of that bite. He liked a challenge as much as he liked submission. The triumph was always more satisfying when the query was difficult.

Yska turned to him then, taking a step closer. She looked up at him with tired eyes that were still so young and innocent. Still so sad.

He looked his prize up and down once more. She was his now.

There was something about this human girl...he couldn't place it. Perhaps, in time, he could coax her confidence. Wipe the sadness from those young eyes. Perhaps that might provide some answers about his nagging pull toward her…and his inflamed defection.

To have her constantly distracting him - tempting him - would be a hardship. But...he didn't regret his decision. He trusted his intuition. This was The Way.

"Come," he commanded, confident she would follow.

The morning drizzle had turned to a soft rain. The sunlight was reedy and faint behind the cloud coverage. Yska followed a pace behind the bounty hunter, head down to protect against the elements.

With a glance, the Mandalorian realized her clothing wasn't warm or weather proof like his armor.

The Mandalorian picked up his pace, locating a retailer along the main drag. He checked to make sure Yska was keeping up with his long strides and was satisfied.

"This way." They ducked into an unassuming store. "Pick out a coat." The girl looked up at him hesitantly, shaking the droplets from her hair. He wanted to lick the rivulets from her dewey skin. Not for the first time, he questioned the helmet edict.

Yska perused options on a replicator screen, being mindful of the price and the time. He seemed to be in a hurry. She didn't want to keep him waiting or cost him more money.

"Is...is this one alright for...your budget?" She asked timidly, afraid to draw attention.

"Money is no object. Your pack looks small. Get any other items you may need. We won't see another town for some time," he commanded flatly. The bounty hunter went to another replicator and busied himself with restocking.

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Well, she did need more clothes. She only had three outfits to her name and she didn't know when she'd get another opportunity.

Yska chose a dozen everyday outfits for varying temperatures and terrains, three dresses for special occasions, and four pairs of shoes. She also added a small case of cosmetics, toiletries, perfume, and lubrication.

"Umm," she signaled to him vaguely. The Mandalorian strode over, looming like a mountain behind her back. Yska's cheeks turned red.

"Is this alright, sir?" She scrolled slowly to show him her selections.

"Yes. But let's increase this quantity." He reached over her shoulder to tap on the screen to add more lubrication. The redness spread to Yska's ears. She hadn't wanted to assume how often he might want to take her, but the amount he'd entered indicated a lot.

"Um...are there any specific outfits you want me to get for special occasions, sir?" She felt his visor fix her with that blank gaze. Lots of clients preferred lingerie or costumes in the bedroom. Yska was a sex slave, no use pretending she wasn't. It's why he'd bought her, right?

He assessed her for a moment before wordlessly leaning over and tapping on the screen. She bit her lip as she watched him select several nightgowns and lingerie sets with varying degrees of sensuality. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and heat pooled in her loins.

He paused, finger hovering over the checkout button.

He leveled her again and shamelessly asked, "What is your method of birth control?"

"Tondah supplied oral hormone suppressants."

"Unreliable," he stated flatly. "We will get a Mesh."

"What's that?" She raised a curious brow.

"Nanite technology," he explained, adding it to the digital cart. The cost was brow-raising, which was why Tondah had chosen the cheaper method. "It's a chip that is placed inside your canal that destroys all sperm. Far more effective without disturbing your natural hormone balance."

She looked down at the floor. He was in charge and had the final say, after all. She didn't know much about all the options out there anyway, so who was she to argue?

He returned to his console, inquiring, "You are human, yes? Humans are omnivores, correct?"

Yska nodded. There were plenty of species out there that looked similar to humans. Being that the warrior was obviously not human, she couldn't fault him for not being able to tell the difference.

"Any food allergies?" he asked.

"No, sir."

The Mandalorian finalized the purchases and instructed the supplies to be transported to his ship's cargo bay. Except for the rain coat, which was replicated on the spot for her immediate use. He'd calculated enough extra food, water, and supplies for at least three months, to be safe.

"Come, Yska," he commanded as they left the store.

Out in the rain, Yska felt much better under her new coat as she followed in the Mandalorian's wake.

His boots thumped thickly on the sidewalk. People turned their heads and stared at the towering warrior. She felt so small next to him. She'd felt beyond small underneath him last night.

Her cheeks burned.

Steeling herself, Yska fell into line at his side, saying, "Thank you for the clothes." He glanced at her, but remained silent. He hadn't chided her for speaking out of turn, so she ventured again cautiously. "I'm sorry I lied to you about my name."

He glanced at her again before returning his gaze to the sidewalk.

Her shoes snicked the pavement twice for his every step.

It didn't seem like he planned to comment. Perhaps he was angry. Her stomach tied in knots.

"I…understand the necessity for it," he muttered after long moments. "Besides...I much prefer Yska to Tamry."

She fixed her eyes on his silvery visor in surprise. Warmth fluttered in her belly. Yska hid a pleased smile in the corner of her lips. With her eyes on the ground, she didn't realize he'd noticed the small expression.

Against code, he felt himself sharing unnecessarily. "Knew a Tamry once."

"Oh? Ex lover?" She asked, emboldened and genuinely curious.

"Of a sort. Later, a Guild traitor. Her bounty was for 'dead or alive.' She chose dead." The bounty hunter watched the human's eyes go wide, pulling her lips in tight.

A few long moments of awkward silence passed. Yska swallowed, eyeing his blasters and blades. He was a warrior. He was dangerous. And...he'd bought her.

Perhaps there was a craving for softness underneath all that metal.

She ventured again, "Will you tell me your name now?"

"No," his speaker rumbled deeply without feeling.

"Why not?" she asked with confusion.

"Because this is The Way." She didn't understand what he meant, but wasn't confident to press him on it.

"Then, what should I call you?" Yska put her chilled hands in her coat pockets.

"Sir is preferred."

They rounded the corner and came to a docking bay. He'd scheduled maintenance and refueling for his ship while he'd stayed at the brothel.

A grease-stained Iktochi sauntered up, wiping his hands on a rag. "Your fuel injectors needed a good flush and I fixed the leak in your hydro jack. She's all set, Mando." He wiped his forehead, smearing a sooty smudge.

The Mandalorian nodded and transferred some credits to the mechanic from his forearm panel.

"Pleasure doin' business with ya, Mando," the Iktochi grinned. "Oh, and one last thing…"

The Mandalorian followed the mechanic a few feet away where the two men shared a private exchange. Yska shuffled her feet awkwardly, shifting her rucksack.

Welding torches flashed in the distance as other mechanics tuned parked crafts, masculine shouts reverberating off metal surfaces. She looked at the ship a small ways off. Her new home. It was larger than she'd expected.

The Mandalorian returned to her side momentarily.

"We'll take off when our goods arrive." He put his hand on her lower back, nudging her in the direction of the ship.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she mumbled, "Why did the mechanic pull you away?"

"That's not really your concern, is it?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Sorry, sir." She ducked her head. Just because he had been kind and attentive, she shouldn't forget that he owned her. He was her new master. They were not equals.

Even though they were widely mistrusted, Iktochi's were renowned for having reliable premonitions.

The mechanic's smile had had a mischievous, knowing twinkle when he'd pulled the warrior away.

The Mandalorian wouldn't tell Yska the premonition the Iktochi had shared: "If you treat that human well...she'll lead you to your richest reward yet."

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Star Wars takes place in a very technologically advanced society. I feel they would have things like replicators. Even we have 3D printers that can make everything from food to houses - that's just the first step to having full on replicators, and we aren't nearly as advanced. So yes, they would have replicators.

**7/15/23 I've been prioritizing my time on my original werelion paranormal romance, so once that is published, I'll have time to finish this fic3!

Updated 5/6/2021 - 3462 words

Revised 7/15/2023 - 4483 words

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