This is a work of fanfiction. Star Wars is the property of George Lucas and LFL. No profits were made and no disrespect is intended with this fic.

Part Three
by Annallisa

Wes followed his "Master" obediently for what seemed like a long distance. The only sounds were the blood pounding in his ears and the solid footsteps of the man who was leading him. He gasped as a hand gripped his bare upper arm, stopping him and guiding him into one of the private rooms that lined the Dungeon's corridors. The twins said those rooms where soundproof, and that bit of information wasn't helping Wes's anxiety level.

The Rogue took a deep breath and tried to swallow the burning lump in his throat, wishing he had some water. All thoughts died as he heard the snick of the door latching behind them, and Wes had to fight the urge to run.

Where could he go with the collar around his neck and a blindfold on? Even his hands were cuffed and useless to him. Wes felt the mysterious Master free his hands from behind his back. His right arm was lifted and fastened to something above his head. The motion was repeated with the other side, and without thinking Wes made a small sound, pulled at the cuffs.

"No, no." The firm, male voice whispered in his ear. "You just be a good boy. I'm not going to hurt you. I want to admire my lovely slave." Wes could barely make out the words through the thick accent, but the voice itself was deep and somehow familiar.

Warm, strong hands caressed his shoulders, moving very slowly over his bare skin, then down his exposed back and sides. The touches were light, exploring his different muscle groups. Wes couldn't help tensing and squirming, he was very ticklish in some of those spots. The movements were rewarded by a stinging slap on his exposed buttock.

Wes gave a little yelp of surprise and got a matching slap on the other cheek. There was a low rumble of a chuckle near his left ear. One of the hands made its way up Wes's shoulder blade and there was a gentle squeeze on his bicep.

"Uhm..." Wes started to say something, and felt a hand press over his open mouth.

"Shhh, slave, no talking... I know you've never done this before; so let me lay down the first rule. No talking will be tolerated unless I ask you a direct question. Understood?" This time when the voice whispered, Wes could feel the moist heat of the breath on his face and smell a hint of whiskey.

Wes nodded, and was rewarded with a brush of lips across his cheek. He felt himself start, caught off guard by being kissed. His reaction brought another low chuckle from the mystery man. This was followed a heartbeat later by those lips returning to lightly kiss his lips.

"Sweet," that low voice crooned in his ear when the kiss ended, "something told me you would be."

Wes lowered his head, embarrassed and fighting the heat he could feel rising in his face. He was not familiar with that particular sensation, few things embarrassed the Rogue, but it was hard to fathom a guy would think of him that way, or pay that kind of credits for the chance to massage him and kiss him a few times.

"Don't be shy, love..." The heavily accented voice attempted to sooth him, to drain the tension from his muscles. "You are one of the most attractive men I've ever had the pleasure of knowing." The master started a catalog of Wes's virtues. "Men would kill for a body like that... the blue eyes, the very soft lips... I've wanted to kiss those lips since the first moment I laid eyes on you."

Wes shivered, feeling a bit light-headed that this was a man touching him, wanting him. "If you think only women desire you, you're so very wrong... I bought you so I could... enlighten you. You've never considered touching another man. Give me a chance to show you what you're missing..."

Wes sagged a little, his arm muscles burning from fatigue, tiring from the strain of being held above his head. He heard footsteps, moving away from him, and then what sounded like rooting around for something.

Without the use of his eyes, Wes had to work very hard to make his other senses to clue him in on what was going on around him. One thing he was very aware of was how warm the room seemed, comfortable for him even though he was nearly naked.

Naked and chained up, Wes reminded himself bleakly, in a room with a man who wanted to "enlighten" him. It was almost too much to take in for his first time.

Janson felt a little overwhelmed.

Who was he trying to kid, Wes felt like he was drowning; he couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs. And as if it could get worse, the footsteps were coming back his way.

Wes frowned at the sound, wishing for all the world that he could see, and run.

"Easy now, slave," the Master breathed in his ear. "I'm not such a bad person to have as your first Master. I don't punish very harshly, and I only have three rules. One, we already covered. The second is that if you feel panicked by anything I do, I want you to tell me to stop. I like to select a special word, kept just between us, that will mean that if you are hurt or scared I must stop immediately and allow you to go, no questions asked. For your first time, I think simply saying 'stop' will be good enough. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I think so." Wes replied, then flinched that he had spoken aloud. There was no punishment for speaking, only a gentle, reassuring squeeze on his shoulder.

Wes frowned, a thought occurring to him.

"You may ask your question..." The master replied, almost before Wes's mind had finished forming that question.

"If I can leave anytime I want to, what about the money? You paid for an hour..."

The man sighed, and again Wes felt the prickle of familiarity. "If you are hurt, or badly shaken up by something we do, I need to know, immediately. I care about YOU. Unless of course, you aren't really frightened or hurt, and are just bored with me... I want to know that, too, but I might want a refund if we can't find something mutually entertaining to do for my hour. My work pays well enough, but leaves too little free time to spend all the money I make. "

"Just how do you define 'mutually entertaining'?" Wes managed a laugh. Somehow, he didn't think he and this strange man would ever find something that would fall into that category.

"Bad slave," the Master's harsh rumble made Wes realize he'd screwed up. "I said I would answer one question, which I did, and you asked two. I'm afraid that means you are about to get your first taste of punishment." The man walked away again, but this time returned almost before Wes knew it. Wes felt something smooth and cool against his bare backside, and it didn't take much imagination to envision a paddle or something that could be used on his defenseless buttocks.

Wes whimpered even before the first smack and he could hear the Master clucking his tongue in disapproval. The smack landed on the left side, then the second on the right, and then on both at once, and it kept to that pattern.

After the surprise of the first blows, Wes fought to stay still, biting his lower lip to keep quiet. He'd be damned if he'd let some strange man see the effect it had on him. Mercifully, Wes was not given much time between each blow even tense in anticipation. The spanking hurt, but was not as hard or as long as it could have been. In fact, it was over quickly, and the stinging flesh was soothed with light caresses. His hands were unhooked from their overhead torture and Wes quickly forgot about his bottom as the circulation started to return to his abused arms.

He bit his lip to stifle a groan, and the Master led him across the room and sat him on the edge of a bed. Then, the man proceeded to rub down the complaining muscles with oil that had a pleasant, fruity aroma.

"I hope you will forgive me for leaving you up a bit too long," the Master said, in his characteristic whisper. "You may not believe me, but I have more experience as a slave than a Master. Normally, I like taking the orders, not giving them, but you were just too... tempting."

Wes made a sound in his throat, not believing for a second that he was as attractive as his Master seemed to believe. "You don't believe me?" The man added with a snort. "Let me show you... lie back on the bed, my slave, and put your hands above your head." The Master secured his wrists to the headboard of their bed. Then, the man took more of the oil and lovingly massaged it into Wes's body starting first with the arms and chest, and moving ever lower with long, firm strokes. He took great care not to miss a single millimeter of the pale flesh.

The competent hands moving over his body lulled Wes into a dreamlike state. At some point, Wes couldn't recall, he must have lifted his hips off the bed to allow his thong to be removed. He was naked and blindfolded in a strange place, with a strange man giving him his an erotic massage.

Wes was surprised to find he was turned on, and not against his will.

The first time ghostly hands touched his cock, Wes fought not to cry out. A part of him still didn't feel right about being so aroused by a man, but the Master added soft, soothing encouragements to the caresses. Janson felt his inhibitions melting away. Fear was being replaced by a burning arousal centered where the man's hands petted and stroked and pumped him.

The Master was careful not to get him too excited. He had an uncanny way of reading Wes's body, of knowing exactly how far to tease without ever letting Wes reach a climax. At the moment Wes started to tense, the hands would move on to torment some less sensitive part of Wes's anatomy, leaving him wanting.

After the fourth time the hands stopped him just short of a bone- melting climax, Wes sent a silent, if frustrated, prayer to whatever higher powers existed that the teasing would end and the climaxing would begin, or he felt sure he would die from the frustration. The Master sensed Wes losing his patience and the game changed. Wes gasped as he felt something warm and very wet engulf his erection. It could only be the Master's mouth and the Rogue pilot didn't know whether to laugh or cry or howl. As the Master's mouth brought him to orgasm, Wes felt as if he were doing all three at once.

Janson tried to draw back as felt himself reach the point of no return, but the Master held his hips firmly and took him even deeper as Wes came into his mouth. The man took every drop he could manage, and then he lapped up the excess that spilled on Wes's belly. From the approving sounds the Master made, Wes got the impression the man was licking his lips and savoring Wes like one would enjoy good Churban brandy.

It was all Wes could do not to faint from what had to be the most powerful orgasm he ever had. And that was saying something for a lady-chaser like Janson. He had been with scores of women, but none of them had ever done something like this to him. Never.

Wes felt the bed shift. The Master was climbing up the length of Wes's body slowly moving to cover the distance between them. Wes didn't know what would happen next, but the way he felt at that moment, a bunch of stormtroopers could have burst into the room and beat him to a pulp and he wouldn't have been able to do a thing. He felt as limp as a stuffed Ewok doll, tired and satiated and awestruck all at the same time.

Wes felt the Master unhook his cuffed wrists from above his head, stopping to brush a light kiss on Wes's lips on the way back down. "I hate to spoil the fun, but my hour is up."

Not wanting the session to come an abrupt end, Wes reached out, grabbing the Master and dragging him down on top of him for more kisses. To Wes's surprise, the man was more than willing to participate in some passionate kissing and groping. It became a kind of contest to see which of the two could kiss the other senseless. They wrestled on the bed for a long time; each taking small breaks in the action to breathe, then adding little kisses to shoulders and necks and any other skin they happened to reach. The body-to-body contact gave Wes's senses more information about his partner. The man was lean, but surprisingly strong, a bit taller than he was and very male.

Janson could feel the Master's erection rubbing against his hip. He pulled back from exploring the man's mouth with his tongue long enough to ask, "What would it feel like if you... put that inside me?"

He heard the Master groan.

After a few seconds of catching his breath, the man said, "We would need more time than what we have tonight to prepare you, or it would be... painful."

"I'm not afraid of a little pain..." Wes replied. He couldn't believe he was considering it.

Things had been getting better and better and naturally that made him wonder about the other things he had never considered doing. "I've been taken unprepared, it isn't something I would wish on any man, especially not you." There was pain in the Master's voice, and brutal honesty.

"I'm sorry..."

"Done right, it can be amazing."

Lying side by side on their backs, Wes could almost hear the smile behind the other man's words.

"Better than what we just did?" Wes was doubtful.

"Oh, we're talking parsecs better..."

"Then, show me." It wasn't a request. There was a hesitation, and Wes took the opportunity to roll on top of the man, quite a trick considering he was still blindfolded. "Or if you don't want to show me, then tell me what to do to you."

The Master made a small, frustrated sound. "You just don't give up, do you?"

"Hey, you're the one who said a little while ago that you're more comfortable taking the orders. So if my hour is up, then maybe I'm should be the master, now." Wes reached up to take the blindfold off and a hand clasped his in an iron grip.

"Don't do that." The command was firm, edged with the beginning of panic. "You can fuck me... I'd like that, but... Please, don't take the blindfold off. Please."

It was the repeated 'please' that made the alarm bells sound in Wes's head. He rolled off the other man, returning to his original position.

The accent, the fake Corellian accent had slipped, and the last few hurried words had that annoying familiarity Wes had been feeling off and on since they started.

"I know you, don't I?"

"Yes." The single word given in reply had a completely different accent, not thick like Corellian, softer and more musical.

Wes felt a hand caress his cheek. "You have no idea how long I've wanted you." The whispered words carried such sadness, it bordered on despair.

"If you really mean that, then why are you hiding your identity?"

"It's complicated. This isn't reality, this could only happen at CorSex. It's just a dream and when you wake up, it never happened. Do you understand?"

The man started to move, getting up from the bed and Wes had to feel around to catch his arm. "Wait." Wes struggled internally for only a fraction of a second before he added, "I don't need to see you to know that I want you. And for some reason I feel like I can trust you. Let's do this. Tell me what I need to do..."

Wes didn't have to ask twice. He was soon lost in a firestorm of touching and kissing and when things would have progressed to the next step with a woman, the mysterious man talked him through it. It wasn't, mechanically speaking, all that different from what he was used to. The difference was mostly in how it felt, hot and so very tight. The friction was... amazing.

When he tried to take it nice and easy, he was met with string of pleas for him to go harder, faster. The pace he was forced to set was frenzied, and it didn't take long for the sensations of the muscular body beneath him, coupled with the wild pounding to send him over the edge.

Somewhere in the midst of the most incredible orgasm he'd ever known, a thought bubbled up to the surface that he was glad the room was soundproof after all. That made him smile, and the smile didn't go unnoticed.

"Enjoy yourself?"

"Sith yeah. Damn." Wes fought to get his breathing back to something like normal. "I was just thinking that maybe soundproofing isn't so bad."

"Never pictured you as a screamer."

"Funny, but I don't seem to recall it being a chorus. I'm sure I'm not up to your standards, but give me a break. It was only my first time. I won't be offended too badly if you offer me a few more chances to practice... "

The warm chuckle was like a caress. "You are a natural talent. If I didn't climax, it wasn't from a lack of effort of your part. Trust me."

"What, then."

"You'll laugh."

"No, I won't. I swear."

"I'm... not allowed to climax. Not without permission from my Mistress."

Wes felt his jaw drop. "Not allowed without permission from your Mistress?"

"That's what I said."

"I'm not laughing. That's not funny. It's... It's terrible."

That brought another of those sexy chuckles. "I wasn't planning to have sex with you, or I would have made arrangements."

"Please, tell me that isn't your third rule."

"Actually, it is the third rule."

Wes felt his mischievous side answer the unspoken challenge. "What happens if I climax without your permission?"

"That would get you much more punishment than just a spanking. Look, I need to leave, now."

"Did I do something wrong?" There was too much hurt behind the words to suit Wes, and he wished he could take them back.

"No love, you didn't do anything wrong, you were perfect." The master cupped Wes's face in his hands and kissed him tenderly. "My mistress is going to paddle me black and blue if I make her wait much longer."

"Oh. Your mistress. I see." Wes tried to wrap his still kiss- hazed brain around the concept. "Are you in real trouble because you're with me?"

"I could be in trouble, but its not like I've never been in trouble before. I can be back at CorSex tomorrow night, maybe."

"How do I know you'll be the highest bidder?"

The man sighed. "No more auctions for you. Haven't you learned your lesson?"

"Yeah. I think you may have a point."

"If you're interested, you can leave a message for me on CorSex's private messaging system with a time you want to meet, or just come to this same room. Put on the cuffs and the blindfold. Wait for me. I will be watching for you..." With one final kiss, Wes felt the man slide off the bed. He heard the sound of footsteps and the door opening and closing.


"You're late." The Mistress growled as he walked in, an edge of anger in her tone, or maybe just annoyance.

"Yes, Mistress." The man answered meekly, going to her and kneeling like a well-trained slave. There was no excuse for tardiness, and he knew there would be punishments. Still, his encounter with Wes made any punishment the Mistress could think of merely an inconvenience. Her mild annoyance was something he would endure a hundred times over if he could have just one more kiss from the attractive Rogue.

Tycho welcomed the submissive role where he didn't have to think, plan or analyze. That left him free to relax into the safe shelter of their fantasy world and hand over all responsibility and care a woman he loved and trusted. It went without saying that their sex life was something on the scale of a supernova, when they actually got to have a sex life. That wasn't nearly as much or as often as either of them would have liked. He had the perfect relationship, if only he could stop thinking about throwing himself at Wes and begging the man to fuck him senseless.

The Mistress made her way to the bed along the far wall and beckoned for him to join her. He smiled inside as he felt her eyes drinking in the sight of him. He crawled across the floor to her, making a big show of moving his butt and hoped she would appreciate the erection bulging at the front of the black thong. She noticed all right, but her face didn't betray her thoughts. She could have been thinking of his punishment, or of pulling him up onto the bed for hours of wild sex for all he could read her expression.

Tycho would gratefully accept either of those, but what he longed for was the release he had denied himself during the time with Wes. He knew better than to break that particular rule. A little tardiness was nothing compared to bringing himself to climax without the Mistress' permission. The Mistress had a heavy hand with a paddle and she didn't hesitate to remind him of that fact if he stepped out of line.

Tonight, as Wes's arms closed around him, Tycho felt a part of himself catch fire; with Wes's hands roaming his body he had come to the brink of breaking that rule. Even his Mistress had rarely made him lose his precious control so completely. If he had stayed another minute, all would have been lost. He doubted he had the control left in him to keep from spoiling everything.

"Come up here, my pet." The Mistress patted the place beside her on the soft mattress, and her slave jumped to obey. She cupped his face in her hands and lifted his face so she could look into his eyes. "How did you like your turn as the Master? Was it all you hoped it would be?"

Tycho couldn't get words past the lump that had formed in his throat.

How could he find words to express the multitude of things that had transpired in that brief encounter? How could he convey to her how painful it was to see someone he loved pale and frightened of him, helpless and vulnerable? How sweet it was to gain the blindfolded man's trust and ease him into an acceptance of something he would never have considered doing with another man?

Just as it seemed to be ending, Tycho found himself in exactly the position he'd dreamed of, with Wes's weight pinning him to the mattress, both of them panting and flushed from real, passionate sex. Wes's breathy, moaning pleas for him not to end the encounter so quickly.

It killed something in Tycho to get up from the bed and leave Wes that way, but it was the only way to keep the fantasy from becoming a nightmare.

Wes could not know it had been Tycho who seduced him. Not now, not ever. Wes was not mature enough to handle a one night stand, or a two night stand for that matter, with Colonel Tycho Celchu, Rogue Squadron's 2IC.

Their working relationship wouldn't stand any more strain, and one of them would end up walking away. Tycho would go if it ever came to that, because he couldn't live with himself if Wes ever left the Rogues because of him.

"It was."

"Then why is it that you look like you need a good cry?" The Mistress held his gaze for a few moments.

Tycho sighed. It would be better for him if he confessed now, and didn't make her drag it from him later, but when he opened his mouth, he couldn't decide where to begin. "That would be because I need a good cry, Mistress."

"Great sex doesn't normally make you cry."

Tycho gave his Mistress a sad smile. "How do you know we had great sex?"

"A good Mistress can sense these things. So, Wes knows it's you?"

He winced. "No. He kept the blindfold on. Thank the Force."

The Mistress frowned, shaking her head. "I don't know which of you is more foolish. Right now you're running neck and neck. You should have told him."

"If I told him, he wouldn't come back tomorrow, or ever, because... it's just me. He won't want me. For some reason, I always come away feeling like Sithspawn when I try to even talk to him, never mind seducing him. If I were Wedge, maybe I'd have a chance..."

The frown the Mistress had been giving him turned into a scowl. "What do you mean coming back for more? Without having any idea who you are? Is he really an idiot?"

"I'm the idiot, not Wes. He's just interested in new experiences, and I can't fault him for that. It was stellar, and I can hold onto that one memory if nothing else ever happens between us. I think that is what makes me feel like crying. There's a decent chance tonight is the one and only time."

"At some point..."

Tycho cut her off with a sigh. " I know."

The mistress pulled him to her, resting his head on her shoulder and held him close. It was the same type of thing she did when their games pushed his limits a bit further than he was ready for or when she accidentally hurt him.

The safety and comfort of that simple embrace brought the tears to his eyes. He let go of the last remaining threads of composure and let the tears flow. Winter understood. She always seemed to know what he needed, and she gave it to him, even if she wasn't happy about.

To be Continued...

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