TFA: Finn no more. Captain Phasma reprograms you.

"Consider yourself lucky, FN-2187." Phasma says, deactivating the lightsaber. "Despite all you've done, I'm going to allow you to live, and to continue to devote your life to the First Order."

You can barely believe what you hear. Of course, that's nothing compared to what Captain Phasma does next. Bringing herself down on you, Phasma mounts your cock and begins to ride you, staring down at your confused face through her impassive, blank helmet.

"Repeat after me." She drones, working her hips on yours, doing everything she can to tease, to pleasure but to never fully satisfy. One of the Captain's hands presses down on your chest, pinning you in place.

"I re-dedicate myself to the First Order." Phasma begins. You sputter, unable to believe what she's doing. When Phasma stops riding you, you're quick to regurgitate her words.

"I swear to give my life for it's ideals." You repeat.

"Give me your designation." Phasma commands. You falter, so close to shooting your load.

"Designation. Now." Captain Phasma insists, putting a hand to your throat and tightening her grip.

Being squeezed in more ways than one, you're **** to admit that if you ever want to cum, or even to get off your feet again, you must abandon your name, and give Captain Phasma the designation she wants to hear.

"FN-2187" You gasp, feeling the old bonds of the First Order snap back into place.

"Correct, soldier." Phasma notes. She shifts her hips, and before you know it, you're cumming, firing the biggest, messiest load of your life into your commander and sealing your fate.

Her job done, Captain Phasma dismounts you and finds her feet.

"Get decent and ready your weapon, 2187." She orders, gathering up her own armour. "Then take me to the Rebel intruders."

Taking only the briefest of seconds to bask in the loss of your virginity, you tuck your cock away, stand and reach for your blaster. Time to get back to work.