Degradation

The clones stood up, as did the emperor. They surrounded me. The master faced me and stroked my red hair.

• Now the filth.

Eleven jets of urea fell on my face, my neck, my shoulders, my breasts, my body, ridding me of their semen. I cared little, I opened myself to their glorious offering to his ****.

Once this golden libation was finished, he took me by the hair, rubbing my cheek in this mixture.

• Don't spoil my work, lick and absorb every drop.

My tongue traced slow circles on the soiled ground, picking up each golden pearl, while their laughter echoed beneath the vault.

The Emperor, hidden in his hood, dug his fingers into the back of my neck, crushing my mouth against the cold marble where their offerings had been spilled.

• Deeper, he growled as a twelfth warm jet splashed down my spine, trickling down my trembling shoulder blades.

I could sense his perverse smile, yet I wanted to satisfy him.

After long minutes of defilement, I succeeded in completing the challenge; thanks to the ****, I had managed to leave no trace.

• Well, you satisfy me, he snapped his fingers. Take her to my toy room, I'll play with her later. Tell Lord Vader to join me in the strategic room, and wash her, she stinks.

The Imperial guards in red armor pulled me from the ground, their metal hands bruising my still-damp flesh. One of them spat on my trembling feet as they dragged me through the dark corridors, my knees scraping against the flagstones still warm from Imperial libations.

As the Imperial guards dragged me along, I fleetingly saw the grim form of Lord Vader bow before the Emperor.