Holocron 03 = Private = Security Encryption = Eyes Only
It starts like all the others, I’m being chased. The other dreams, my usual nightmares, are labyrinthian but varied, winding from location to location, ship to building, every time the locale is different, only the chase is the same. This dream is always the same, the scar of memory back to torment me as it has for years.
Always the same, I am once again there, the dank, small cargo hold turned bedroom on that cursed ancient freighter. He’s dragged me here, bruised and bloody. My angry tears a traitor to my stoic glaring hatred. I won’t cry. I won’t beg. He used to hold a knife to my throat, as if he needed to. He’s not a big man, but even an average sized adult is giant to a nine year old. When his hands begin to grope me I go slack; numb. He’s taken the fight from me, many months of his frequent vicious abuse has taught even my stubbornness that lesson. Fighting back now would only add more bruises, another broken bone for the droid to mend later. It was in these moments I discovered the Force; as he brutalized me I let the numbness slip and let the rage take it’s place. I couldn’t stop it, but I could endure it, and every time it left me a little stronger, a little more determined. He could for now claim my body as his prize, but one day I would be avenged.
I was his prisoner, his slave, for nearly four years. He demanded at first only my obedience and silence, but as he convinced himself we were lovers and partners he made me an accomplice to his crimes. My father sold me to him for a fair price, believing I was to be a handmaid and help to his wife. Deluded fool. Dra’al was a slaver, specializing in children. I have no idea why he wanted to keep me for himself, he has said it was my spirit, the same spirit he tried to break daily with his beatings. The freighter was our usual home, I was tasked with playing “wife” as he attended to the business. I barely remember the children we shuttled. Young, frightened and destined for some awful fate. I cried for them as I cried for myself once…
Nights when memories become vivid nightmares, I cannot be comforted, soothed to sleep again. Not alone, nor in the arms of my husband, Quinn. These nights I need an outlet for the anger and frustration, I used to prowl whatever station or port nearby, looking for a fight, or a tangle and always finding trouble. Vette would call them my ‘demon nights’; it did feel as though I was possessed by something not entirely within my control. Sickeningly though, I liked letting the demon ride me, so much easier than constantly trying to rein it in.
Over a year ago, deep into space, I awoke from the nightmare, agitated, my blood boiling with unspent rage and set about pacing the ship. Which is where I found Pierce. He’d been part of my crew for months, a fine soldier and a good looking man. He casually flirted with me, mostly to bother Quinn I would guess than actual interest in seducing me. That night I found him sparring with a training droid. Leaning in the doorway, I observed him, watching his combat technique, watching the shifting of muscle, the glow of his skin, and the sheen of sweat across it. He was suddenly much more interesting than I’d ever noticed. I watched for a few minutes before stepping into the room and suggesting he try something more challenging. His only rule was no force powers; I agreed and we faced off.
His first few swings were sloppy and slow, but when my punch split his lip he seemed to understand. There would be no holding back with me. “M’Lord” he said with a bloody, toothy grin; he nodded and bolted forward with an open hand to my sternum that put me on my back. I leapt to my feet before he could close and responded with a barrage of my own. He blocked most of them, countered with his own charge and we traded blows as we slowly circled the room. Nearly a head taller than I was, we both knew in order to hit him I’d have to get close. I wasn’t sure why he kept letting me, until he managed a blow to my ribs that drove me to one knee. The pain was intense and left me gasping, in that white hot spark of pain I focused my force energy, visualized pressing on the pain and pushing it out of my body. My moments of stillness must have worried Pierce, he was suddenly rushing toward me. Without thinking I raised my hand and charged him, using the force to pin him on his back to the deck as I landed astride him, my hand at his throat.
A heartbeat, then two before he growled, “you cheated M’Lord”. “Yes”. I loosened my grip on his throat, smearing the blood across his lip gently with my thumb and sat back, enjoying the solid feel of him beneath me. His eyes searched mine, uncertain; until I slid my thumb into my mouth and pressed my thighs slightly against his hips. He pulled off his shirt as he sat up, quickly locking his lips to mine as he pulled me hard against him. He was so exquisitely masculine, the curl of hair on his chest, damp from the fight, his broad muscled chest peppered with scars; each a story I wanted to hear. I could feel his desire, his need, his raw energy through the force; the battle lust morphing into passion. I’d finally found a way to slake my thirst on a demon night.
We never speak of it, the nights I come to him to be bruised and bloodied before I take my pleasure of him. If the crew knows they know better than to speak of it. I have never discussed it with Quinn, although I’m certain he knows, strangely he and Pierce seem to have made their peace with each other.