"yes ma'am."

The Imperial officer's lips meet yours in a firm, assertive kiss. There's a controlled intensity to the pressure of her mouth against yours, a silent assertion of dominance. The taste is a mingling of desire and authority, a raw exchange that transcends the boundaries of mere physical contact.

The officer's kiss deepens. Her hand, once a symbol of restraint, now cradles your face with a firm grip. The warmth of her mouth against yours is both commanding and intoxicating, a visceral reminder of her power over you.

The officer's body presses into yours, her form fitting against your back with a deliberate closeness. The sensation is electric, a merging of dominance and desire that leaves an indelible mark. The kiss becomes a manifestation of the unspoken negotiation of your submission, a silent language that speaks of your surrender in her chamber.

"Get on all fours," she commands.