A diplomatic mission to the outer rim

Considering your Padawan's lack of combat skills, the Order decided to send you on a less dangerous mission than they normally would have. Instead of sending you on one of your typical combat missions against the Sith, it was decided that you would go on a diplomatic mission instead. Deciding to leave that part out to keep her from feeling bad about her Jedi skills, you tell your Padawan, "We are headed to the Outer Rim, Mandalore to be exact, on a diplomatic mission. Mandalorian mercenaries have proven to be adept at killing ****-users on both sides, so we are going there to secure as many of them as we can for a Republic push into Sith space."

Judging by the wide eyed expression on her face, it seems like Winya is aware of the reputation of the Mandalorians. Not surprising considering how deadly of a foe they proved to be against Jedi in the past as an empire, and currently as soldiers-for-hire. "How are we supposed to convince them to join our side?" she asked.

"Good question. The Council gave me a good amount of credits, but that may not be enough. We will have to be persuasive in convicing them that our cause is righteous." You stand up from your seat, "There is no point worrying about that now," you tell her. "The journey will take more than a few days, and in the meantime, I wish to asses your training."

You can see her get nervous, "Ah, yes of course, Master." You lead her to the training room and hand her an apple from the kitchen.

"Now I want you to levitate this apple to your eye level and hold it steady there as long as you can." She nods, and you can see her brow furrow in concentration as she stares at the fruit, perspiration already forming on her skin. Slowly, and shakily, the apple begins to rise, occasionally dropping a few inches before she manages to get ahold of it again. Once it reaches her eye level, the apple holds still. And a second later it shakes and then drops to the floor. Winya lets out an exasperated breath she had been holding in. "Try again, Padawan."

"Yes Master," she responds. You keep at it for almost an hour, and she never preforms any better than the first time. Sensing her frustration is reaching a boiling point, interfering with her connection to the **** to the point where she was barely getting the apple off the ground, you halt her, moving on to other excercises. For every different excercise you try, it's the same result. When you come to a halt, her emotions are a mess. Frustration, anger at herself, shame, fear of her dissapointing you, so you decide to end her training for now.

"That's enough for now," you instruct her. "You did well," you add, after seeing her dejected face.

"Thank you Master, but I know I didn't. I try so hard, I'm just not very good. I'm so grateful that you picked me to be your Padawan, but maybe you made a bad choice." She chokes back a sob, "Maybe if we return to the Temple now they will let you pick another girl," she says, with tears in her eyes.

"Listen to me, Winya," you say, putting both your hands on her shoulders, "I picked you out of all those other girls for a reason." That reason being you wanted to use and breed her over and over again. No reason to tell her that, though. "One day, I'm sure you will prove yourself valuable to the Order." As an incubator for young Jedi. "And I promise to do my best to train you to the best of my abilities." Well, at least that part you meant. "Regardless, our current mission won't require **** Powers or lightsaber combat, so don't concern yourself if you come along a little slower than some of your counterparts."

She gives you smile, seemingly comforted by your words. On the long journey, you continue training her, and she comes along shockingly slowly, although you do not see the need to admonish her. Where she does excel in is her role as a breeder. Winya takes to that role with enthusiam, as happy to take your seed across her chest or face as she is to accept it in her womb. As you approach your destination, you almost regret that the journey isn't longer, as you've grown accustomed to seeing her petite, curvy body bouncing on your manhood whenever you ask, and even stripping down and beginning without needing to be prompted. As your ship slows from hyperspace, the planet of Mandalore comes into view, and you settle into the pilot's seat. You key in your approach and prepare to meet your contact.