Corruption

Chapter 7 ⚠️

⚠️contains smut⚠️

I woke to the sound of heavy boots echoing across the common area. My eyes blinked open, adjusting to the low light. At some point during the night, someone had draped a blanket over me—plush, warm, unfamiliar. I didn't know who, and I didn't dare ask.

"Get up, Princess. We've things to do," a voice growled.

A large hand landed on my side, shaking me roughly. Pain flared through my ribs and I hissed, my stitches pulsing in protest.

I forced myself upright, tossing the blanket aside. The cold floor met my bare feet like a slap. After what I'd endured last night, I knew better than to disobey. These men didn't tolerate hesitation. And I had no interest in earning another concussion for moving too slowly.

I tugged at the collar still locked around my neck. It hadn't loosened, hadn't slipped even once. I hated it—its weight, its meaning. I had been a princess. Now I was property.

The Knight loomed over me. I didn't know his name, only the deep voice and the ever-present club weapon strapped to his back.

"We've a mission with Master Ren," he said, voice devoid of emotion. "Be on your best behavior. One wrong look, and you're back in a cell."

I shivered. The memory of that concrete tomb still clung to me like frost. I nodded quickly, the leash clip clicking into place at my throat with a metallic snap.

He gave it a sharp tug.

I stumbled, catching myself on a nearby bench. He didn't stop. Just turned and strode off with the others, pulling me along like luggage.

The sound of their approach was thunderous. Boots on steel. Weight behind every step. The walls of Starkiller Base seemed to flinch as they passed.

Workers scattered.

Stormtroopers snapped to attention, helmets jerking toward the wall as they pressed themselves flat.

Officers stiffened, whispering under their breath as the Knights of Ren moved like a hunting pack through the corridors.

I struggled to keep up, my legs aching from the pace. The leash tugged at my throat every time I faltered. My knees nearly buckled as we turned the corner into the main hangar bay.

It was chaos.

TIE fighters hovered on repulsorlifts. Engineers shouted commands over the roar of engines. Sparks flew from open hulls. The air smelled of ozone and grease. And at the center of it all sat a black-winged monster—the Night Buzzard. I'd heard its name once, whispered by a trooper during my coronation ceremony, just before the massacre began.

Kylo Ren stood at the base of its loading ramp, hunched over a datapad in discussion with a female general.

The Knights stopped in formation, boots slamming into the floor in perfect sync. I barely managed to catch my breath before Kylo dismissed the general with a flick of his hand and turned to us.

His gaze slid to me.

"She survived the night," he said casually. "Good. I hate waste."

I stiffened at the sound of his voice. His words made my skin crawl, and yet something about them—about him—still commanded the room.

"We thank you for your gift, Master Ren," Ap'lek said with a slight bow.

Gift.

I was a gift now.

My hands balled into fists. I wanted to scream. To tear off this collar. To shove my hatred down each of their throats. But instead, I stayed silent.

"Come," Kylo said. "We've an objective. And I don't enjoy being kept waiting."

He turned and disappeared into the ship.

The Knights followed without hesitation, dragging me behind them with quick, purposeful strides. I stumbled up the ramp into the vessel, glancing around as we entered the dark, metallic interior. It was quieter inside—colder somehow.

We passed into what appeared to be a shared common space. Simple, brutalist design. No softness. No comfort.

Kuruk, the Knight with the rifle slung over his back, peeled off from the group and entered the cockpit after Kylo.

I was left alone with the remaining five.

Ap'lek gave my leash a tug and brought me to a stop near a steel-framed chair. He clipped the lead to one of the armrests and motioned.

"Sit, pet. We've a long journey ahead."

I sat.

The metal was cold beneath me. I drew my knees together, spine stiff. Every breath I took felt like I was inhaling the judgment in the room.

The Knights didn't speak, not at first. They spread out—some resting against the walls, some checking their weapons. I let my eyes fall to the floor.

At some point in the ride Trudgen had given me the kindness of letting me off my lead, pulling me into his lap. I shifted uncomfortably on top of him. His large hands tracing there way up my waist. He was surprisingly gentle, much more than I had expected from a man of his size.

"I enjoyed the show you put on for me and my brothers last night, pet." He chuckled. I avoided his gaze, fixing my eyes on his broad chest as my cheeks heated up.

"Aww is my little princess getting shy?" He questioned, the smirk beneath his mask apparent from the sound of his voice.

"I know my brother was rough with you, pet. But I can be gentle."

His words had me quivering in his grip, after weeks of being abused and manhandled by doctors, stormtroopers, even his fellow knights, I craved gentleness even of just for a fleeting moment.

The knight stood, sitting me where he had once been perched and did something I wasn't expecting. He pulled his helmet off. I took in his unmasked appearance. He was handsome, his hair and features dark, his eyes piercing green, a beard adorning his face. He had scars littering his features, most I assumed he acquired in battle.

Before I got the chance to protest the man kneeled. His large hands traced their way up my thighs, pulling my legs apart, slowly, carefully. I could tell he didn't wish to hurt me, and I thanked the stars for it.

He pulled the thin fabric of my panties to the side with a leather clad finger.

His mouth found its way to my core, the feeling of his hot tongue between my folds forcing a cry of ecstasy to escape my lips. My hands gripped harshly to the arms of the chair upon which I sat, so tightly my knuckles turned white, restraining myself from the urge to grip his skull and pull him closer.

I bucked my hips desperately, doing anything I could to get closer, wanting him to taste every inch of me, to bring me to my tipping point.

"P-please." I stuttered, my words coming out no louder then a whisper as I begged for more. "Your going to have to beg me better then that, pet. Tell me what you want." He commanded, holding my hips down as he pulled away leaving my center aching with need. Despite my humiliation, I knew that if I just did what he wanted, if I just begged for his touch that he would pleasure me.

"Please, I'll do what you want, just touch me." Pathetic, truly pathetic.