The mission above all.

She rushed to wash, dress, and cover up the marks, before joining Cinda and Tarlon who were chatting.

• Ah, there you are, it was about time, I almost got impatient. We'll have to train her better, my dear, he said, looking at Tisha, who fleetingly saw Cinda's worried look.
• Yes, you're right, my dear, she's only been a **** for a short time, willing but still a little clumsy.
• Leave her in my care from time to time, and I'll prepare her as best I can. Don't worry, it will be more of a distraction than an obligation, and I won't harm her as long as she progresses and obeys.
• I'm counting on you, my dear, and you can tell me about her progress when she's with you.
• Yes, excellent idea, I'll take this opportunity to get your advice. An outside perspective, but discreet and loyal to the empire, will be useful to me.
• So, it's understood that when you ask me, I'll send it to you when we arrive. In the meantime, feel free to take advantage of her services during the journey.

Seated in comfortable armchairs, they clinked glasses. Tisha, kneeling beside Tarlon, was being caressed by him as one absentmindedly does a dog.

However, Tisha was partly comforted by the conversation; her actions had put Tarlon in a good mood toward Cinda, who would now be his unofficial advisor; her sacrifice was not in vain.

As Tarlon poured himself more, Cinda nodded approvingly and apologetically toward Tisha. Cinda was a charming hostess all day; although she asked many questions about the purpose of Tarlon's mission, she suspected she was keeping him busy so he would have less time to think about her.

At the end of the day, he whispered in her ear, "You'll wait for me naked and in a submissive position by my bed. I can't wait to hear you moan or scream, as I please."

Once in the bedroom, she slowly undressed, her trembling fingers brushing against each wound on her skin. She knelt by the bed, head bowed, and waited. The minutes ticked by, each second amplifying her anxiety. When Tarlon finally arrived, his gaze swept over her naked body with an intensity that made her shiver.

He took nipple clamps from a satchel and a riding crop.

• Did I tell you I'm also an Imperial Interrogator? I love extracting confessions or secrets. Before I completely trust your mistress, you're going to tell me everything about yourself and her. I'm going to take great pleasure in making you scream.

He smiled at her with boundless cruelty, the nipple clamps gleaming in the dim light of the room. Tisha felt her heart stop for a moment, her breathing became shallow. Tarlon approached her, the clamps in one hand, the riding crop in the other, his gaze shining with sadism.

He bent down, his fingers brushed against her breasts, and before she could react, he brutally closed the clamps on her nipples. Tisha stifled a scream, the searing pain radiating throughout her body. Tarlon sat up, holding the clamps like a bridle, forcing her to stand despite her trembling legs.

• Get up, put your hands behind your head, don't worry, you won't have many marks, but you will suffer. You're going to tell me everything about yourself and your mistress. I'll stop when I'm satisfied with the answers.

Tisha stood up and put her hands behind her head. She held back a wince as the clamps bit more viciously into her breasts; they were designed to bite harder with each movement.

Tarlon struck her with his riding crop in a sweeping, expert motion. Pain shot up her back, burning and throbbing. She gritted her teeth, refusing to let out the scream rising within her, but her eyes filled with tears at the intensity of the pain. Tarlon sneered, visibly pleased to see her body tense under the blow.

• Yes, well, resist, it'll last even longer. You'll talk, I assure you.

Tears streamed silently down her cheeks as Tarlon continued to strike her with cruel precision. Each stroke of the crop was calculated to inflict maximum pain without leaving permanent marks, as he had promised.

Tisha felt her body tremble with pain, but she clung to the thought of her mission, to the need to protect Cinda. The nipple clamps seemed to be tightening, and every movement, however imperceptible, sent waves of pain through her body. Tarlon chuckled again, visibly aroused by his power over her.

Tisha was a pro; she only gave away fragments of a scenario she had been able to perfect through her exchanges with Cinda, confessing to perversions of her and her mistress that didn't compromise her mission but made it believable and channeled Tarlon's perverse instincts instead of insisting on points that might have betrayed her.

He wanted more details about the orgies and tortures she engaged in under the orders of her mistress, her habit of restoring her virginity.

She gave him numerous details, even the most scabrous, revealing perversions that humiliated him but distracted him from other, more dangerous thoughts about his mission. Every word that came out of her mouth was carefully chosen, a delicate balance between truth and lies, while tears silently streamed down her cheeks.

Tarlon, delighted by the revelations, gave in to his darkest instincts, each stroke of the crop punctuating his sadistic laughter. Tisha, despite the unbearable pain, remained focused on her goal, knowing that every second that passed removed Cinda's suspicions.

At the end of her tether, she collapsed, he turned her over and sodomized her with one blow, unleashing her libido, which was on edge during this session.

Tisha's tears had stopped flowing, but her body still trembled with pain. Tarlon, satisfied with his **** session, plowed into her with merciless enthusiasm, each brutal movement reinforcing the nausea rising within her.

Despite the agony gnawing at her, Tisha remained focused on her mission, knowing that every moment she endured was pushing Cinda further away from danger. Tarlon, drunk with power and sadism, whispered obscenities in her ear, his hands relentlessly brutalizing her bruised body.

Each second felt like an eternity to Tisha, but she clung to the idea that her sacrifice was not in vain. Finally, he came in her rectum, withdrew viciously, and presented his soiled sex to her.

• Clean this up, you've soiled me.

Tisha, still trembling with pain, knelt wordlessly, her trembling hands brushing against the soiled member. Every second was a trial, but she knew that giving in to rebellion would be fatal. She cleaned him with mechanical precision, her silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Tarlon, satisfied with her obedience, stared at her with a cruel smile.

• You're perfect, Tisha. Perfect for me, perfect for your mistresses. He sneered, knowing he'd just broken a part of her, but Tisha, despite the pain, remained committed to her mission.
• You'll sleep at the foot of my bed like the good dog you are. Your mistress won't regret your performance. We like the same things. I can trust her now because she thinks like me.

She obeyed, more than fainted, but slept until morning before Tarlon woke up. She went to the ship's kitchens to prepare breakfast for her master. On the way back, she ran into Cinda, to whom she gave the success sign so as not to give herself away, and didn't want to break down while speaking to Cinda. In a sharp tone, she said to her:

• She told Master Tarlon that we will be at our destination tomorrow morning. I hope he will make the most of you; there is little time left.