To Use Trickery

"Girls! Girls!" the Twi'lek waved the group of half-naked women silent before she continued. "We should show a little professional curtesy and help this poor lady out of her predicament."

The Twi'lek turned to Fennec. "You're in luck with the cuffs. I'm very knowledgeable about these kinds of things." Her blue fingers lovingly caressed the magnacuffs binding her elbows together. "These for instance are very high quality."

"Remove them and you can keep them," said Fennec.

"But I'd need the code."

"1138" offered Fennec as quick as she could.

The Twi'lek winked to the others as she disabled the cuffs. With a BEEP Fennec's upper arms were mercifully able to separate.

"Thank you... umm," Fennec flexed her arms as she fished for her savior's name.

"The girls calls me Mistress," said the Twi'lek offhandedly as she examined the cuffs on her wrists. "Now these have a trick to them. But, you need to put your hands behind your back to do it."

That didn't sound right to her, but what options did Fennec have? Stepping over her cuffs would normally be easy but trying to do it while pushing her thighs together to give some cover, however minimal, to her pubic bush was nearly impossible. Fennec would have toppled over if Trixie, the Zabrak in the latex bikini, hadn't steadied her.

"Excellent," said Mistress grinning, "now put your hands up here..."

She pulled Fennec's hands up by her shoulder blades and then, with a second BEEP, the magnacuffs on her biceps reactivated. The magnetic cuffs not only pulled each other together but pulled in the metal wrapped around Fennec's wrists as well, wholly and completely trapping her wrists between her shoulder-blades, pulling her torso into a rigid, shoulders back, position.

"Dank farrik! Unlock this right now or I'll ..." Fennec's screams were interrupted by a silicone ball one of the club girls rammed between her lips.

For the second time in an hour the master assassin found herself bound and gagged, but she wasn't standing for it this time. She threatened the assembled girls with every harmful thing she knew, though the ball filling her mouth rendered her threats an utterly incomprehensible string of muffled "mmmphs" and "rrrfs" until the Twi'lek silenced her by whipping Fennec's crotch with her crop.

"You expect us to believe you were captured and they gave you the code to your own cuffs?" asked an incredulous Mistress. "You freelancers must think we're truly stupid. But one look at you tells us who's the real idiot.

"Did you honestly think you were going to come down here and steal our customers with these little titties?" Mistress brought the crop came down across Fennec's nipples, hardened by the cool night air, causing the woman to flinch away.

"Or this flat ass?" Whipping her ass chased Fennec forward into the next blow.

"Stars, you sitting on a wookiee?" The crop came down hard on Fennec's hairy muff.

So, it continued, the Twi'lek highlighting every one of Fennec's flaws by delivering blow after blow to the delicate bits of her anatomy. It was so fast and confusing that Mistress had her practically dancing to the tune of the crop. Fennec tried to resist their effects but the she always managed to hit the most sensitive parts in just the right way. Not just the most sensitive parts of her flesh but of her ego, all while the laughter of the surrounding girls rang in her ears. The Twi'lek honed in on her imperfections with a sniper's accuracy.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

By the time she was done, the Twi'lek's expert hands had turned an elite mercenary into a jumble of humiliations and body issues.

Trixie leaned her head on her mistress's blue shoulder. "Now that you got her broke in, what do you plan to do with her?"