With conditions. And Aria breaks.

A cunning grin unfurled across Zax's grotesque face, his needle-like teeth catching the scant light as he rested his hand on her trembling shoulder. "The fundamental issue with you Jedi," he started, his voice oozing a mock empathy that made her skin crawl. "Is that you're torn from your families' embrace before you can even form lasting memories of them." His words hung in the air like an oppressive fog, clouding her thoughts and twisting her perceptions.

"The Jedi," he continued, his gaze trapping hers in a predatory hold, "are nothing more than aloof mentors at best. They shroud their teachings in enigmatic riddles while denying you even the simplest forms of affection." Each syllable was a venomous barb aimed to erode her faith in the Order she held dear.

"They snatch you away from the warmth of home and abandon you to navigate this harsh galaxy alone. You crave stability, don't you?" His tone softened into something almost tender as he probed deeper into her psyche. "You long for someone unyielding and powerful to guide your steps... unlike how you perceive yourself."

The his toxic words began to gaslight the deepest recesses of Aria's mind, like a shadowy serpent weaving its way through the undergrowth. It slithered into her memories, twisting and reshaping them with an insidious precision that was almost surgical in its implementation.

Her childhood memories, once filled with hazy images of her parents' encouraging smiles and tender touches, started to warp and distort. The warm sunlight that used to filter through the windows of her home on the Outer Rim faded into obscurity, replaced by the ominous glow of red Sith energy. The comforting murmur of her mother’s lullabies became drowned out by a resentment at the lack of direction in her life.

In these corrupted recollections, it was no longer her jedi master who guided her hand as she attempted to assemble a training lightsaber for the first time. Instead, it was Zax's thick fingers wrapped around neck, his raspy voice whispering harsh criticism and demanding perfection. The memory twisted further; now he stood behind her as she swung a real lightsaber for the first time, his hands guiding hers in a mockery of gentle instruction. His voice echoed in her ears: "Do better you stupid little girl. Strive harder."

Her mother's loving gaze morphed into Zax's leering eyes, watching as she struggled through each task he set before her – not out of love or pride but because she was a stupid little girl that needed to be told what to do.

These distorted memories began to fill every corner of Aria's mind, replacing years of loneliness and self-doubt with an authoritative figure who demanded obedience – a perverse paternal presence that seemed omnipresent within her psyche. Zax’s corruption was eating away at Aria’s mind. This was the true trick of Zax’s connection with the ****: other sith could corrupt others by twisting the facts. Zax, on the other hand, could literally alter how Aria remembered her life to guide her into becoming his perfect tool.

Aria's tears ceased their flow as she absorbed his words. The sting of defeat still fresh coupled with Zax's manipulation of the **** made it difficult for her to resist his narrative. Slowly but surely, she found herself nodding along, agreeing with each twisted truth he presented.

Zax's voice, coarse and grating, echoed in the confined space between them. His words slithered into her ear, a venomous whisper that sent shivers down Aria's spine. "If you want my help, Aria," he drawled out her name like a predator savoring its prey, "you're going to have to learn to beg."

His statement hung in the air, heavy with implications and unspoken promises. It was not just a demand; it was a challenge. Zax wanted her to break, to crumble under his influence and submit to his will.

Even as a youngling Aria had been taught the stark realities of life under Sith dominion. They were a ruthless tyrannical **** empire, enforced by a cabal of aristocratic overlords. Rebels were killed, autonomy long lost to its subjects, and the wealth generated by the slaves just filled the pockets of the upper class. She vaguely remembered nights crying, thinking about all of the wasted lives crushed under the boots of these despots. And yet, amidst these reflections, a troubling notion began to take root in Aria's consciousness that she might have been wrong.

Aria found herself grappling with the unsettling idea that perhaps submission to this iron-fisted hierarchy was preferable to letting retarded cows like herself make decisions. Zax had proved she was a weak, self-deluded, pathetic ignorant thing with nothing to offer the galaxy. The sith lords had been in charge for thousands of years, before the republic was ever around. Was it possible that their system survived because the people on bottom couldn’t be trusted to make their own decisions?

The allure of surrendering to a system where she occupied a subordinate position on the social ladder began to take hold, clouding her judgment and warping her moral compass. Wouldn’t it be nice to just let people with actual brains determine how she was best used?Aria teetered on the precipice of embracing an ideology that exalted dominance and subjugation as natural law in a world where strength reigned supreme.

"Beg me," he continued, each word punctuated with an insidious intent that made her stomach churn. His breath was hot against her skin - an unpleasant reminder of their proximity and the power he held over her.

He leaned closer still until she could feel his grotesque form pressing against hers. She could sense his anticipation growing as if feeding off her discomfort and fear. He reveled in it, drawing strength from her vulnerability.

"Beg me for my protection, beg me like the pet female you are" he commanded again, his tone laced with cruel satisfaction. “Beg me to take you back to Korriban and brand you with my family’s crest. Beg me to twist you into whatever best serves me in the moment.” The words were simple yet loaded with meaning. They spoke of submission and dominance - of relinquishing control over one's fate and placing it in another's hands.

"And tell me," he added after a momentary pause for dramatic effect, "tell me you'll do whatever I please so long long as I protect you as my property." The finality in his voice left no room for negotiation or defiance.

His demand was clear: Surrender your will to mine; make yourself subservient to my desires; trade your freedom for my protection. This was not just about begging for aid; it was about acknowledging him as her master – accepting his authority over her.

A wave of exhilaration coursed through Aria's veins, a potent cocktail of adrenaline and arousal. Her pulse quickened, drumming an insistent beat in her ears that echoed the dark rhythm of Zax's influence. Warmth bloomed across her skin, flushing her cheeks with a rosy hue as her body responded to the unfamiliar sensation. She felt a slick wetness pool in her cunt, an intimate testament to the anticipation that was slowly consuming her.

It wasn't merely the electrifying hum of submission that ignited this wildfire within; it was the stark epiphany of what yielding to Zax genuinely implied. It was about surrendering to the dark side, discarding all she once cherished, and consciously choosing to play a minor role in his perverse narrative of galactic conquest.

The idea of whimpering for his validation, seeking his approval as eagerly as a loyal puppy awaits its master's affection, captivated her in a way she couldn't resist.The presence of a formidable authority figure who had previously been glaringly absent from her life now suddenly held an irresistible charm.

As these thoughts spiraled through her mind, her mouth fell open slightly, tongue lolling out in an uncharacteristic display of abandon while drool trickled down her chin unnoticed - a silent pledge to the path she was treading upon.

Yet within her, a part screamed in protest, struggling against this newfound desire. But the insidious tendrils of dark corruption were strangling those resistant fragments of her mind. They were relentlessly drowning that defiant inner voice under a sea of darkness from which it would never resurface again.

In an instant, a cataclysmic shift occurred within her. A torrent of emotions cascaded from her eyes, a blend of sorrow and ecstasy that mirrored the tumultuous storm raging within her soul. Clinging to his legs with a **** intensity reminiscent of a lost child seeking solace, she cried out in fervent plea. "Please... Master," she implored amidst choked sobs, "Make me your property." The words hung heavy in the air, marking her initial surrender to Zax's corrupting influence and signifying the first step on her path towards becoming his Sith plaything.

Zax smirked, and unveiled his engorged member. “you’ll have to earn it first”.

Authors note: Thanks for all the likes and bookmarks! Definitely my first substantial story, so any feedback, comments, or ideas for next steps would be welcome!

I'm not opposed to putting pictures in my story, but have no experience with AI image generation. If anyone has suggestions, let me know.