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“Defeat Grievous in this match,” Count Dooku explained to you, “to prove that you will be ready for your first mission. Fail this time and consider yourself useless.”
“Yes, master,” you bowed your head.
Part of you worried as his steps faded from view. There have been several matches between you and the seven foot cyborg now, but so far you haven’t bested him. It’s true that Grievous was not force sensitive, but he had nearly perfected the art of killing Jedi. You were no Jedi though. The dark side flowed through you as natural as breathing.
“He must not believe in you,” Grievous began before being cut off by a hacking cough.
“What do you mean?” You snapped at him, standing and rolling your shoulder back in challenge. Not that you’d ever match his frame.
“He isn’t bothering with watching. I suppose he doesn’t want to bother to see you lose,” he taunted.
You spread your legs to a fighting stance, “I will not lose this time.” Your lightsaber pulled close to your face, ready on the defense.
Grievous chuckled mechanically at that, the sound sending vibrations down your spine. Though you’d never admit it, part of the reason you always lost to him was because you were always distracted by him. His larger than life presence, the way his voice caused the air to shake, the endless possibilities having four hands brings. You shake your head, trying to focus yourself on what is at stake. One more mistake and you are out.
“What are you waiting for?” Grievous questions loudly, impatient as he lights up all four of his lightsabers.
You grunt taking in your saber’s red glow, a stark contrast to the night air around you. Grievous makes the first move, keeping you on your toes as you bounce and roll just out of reach. You have learned there was no hope to overpower his mechanics, so you needed to wait for an opening.
“Are you even trying?!” He shouts and brings two lightsabers down at once against your one.
“Shut up!” You yell back, already sweating and tired. Maybe what Ventress had said before was right, you really were too weak.
Reaching out to the force, you push Grievous away from you to catch your breath. You jump on a beam attached to the ceiling of the room and use the height to your advantage. Grievous is on the defense as you bring your lightsaber down again and again.
Eventually you run out of beams and end up back on the ground, barely missing the swings threatening to slice you in half. You think that Dooku must have told Grievous not to hold back. Death, surely, was better than having to go back to your backwater planet with nothing to show for your training.
Suddenly the air rushes from your lungs as Grievous kicks you with his metal talons. You manage to bring your lightsaber up in time to block the blow from all four of his striking down at once. It takes all of your physical strength, along with help from the force, to keep the beams from your frame. This, though, leaves you open to his massive feet again.
“You fail to impress me every time,” Grievous brings his foot to your chest and presses down. “Not even worth training with.”
Your strength begins to fail you as you struggle to take in air. There are spots in your vision and all you can focus on are those piercing yellow Kaleesh eyes. Heat pools in your abdomen. You are ashamed to be feeling this way even as you face certain death, Grievous' lightsabers mere inches from you. A slight moan escapes your parted lips.
“I yield,” you struggle to gasp in a last attempt to at least walk away with your life, your pride long forfeited.
“No,” Grievous chuckles and pushes impossibly harder on your body, surely about to crack a rib or two.
“Please, Grievous,” You plead, “I don’t even want to fight you.”
There is trepidation in his glare, “What?”
“I-I never win because I can’t focus on anything but you,” you admit. If this is how you end, you should at least get your feelings off your chest.
“This is a poor attempt to get me to let down my guard,” Grievous states, eyes but slivers in anger.
“I’m not- ah,” the pain is becoming unbearable, “I’m not trying to trick you. I-I-“
“You what?” He leans his face closer to you, his lightsabers pushing yours close enough to singe your clothes.
“I am attached to you,” you confess.
His leathery eyes widened, “Attached?” He doesn’t let up the pressure and you think this is really it.
“Please- let up and- AH!” You squeeze your eyes shut as a rib breaks, “Explain. I can explain!”
Grievous seems to ponder for a moment before deciding you really aren’t a threat to him and letting his foot ease off. It’s still on you, threatening to finish the job if you are messing with him. You don’t fail to notice and neither does the ache in your groin that you are quite ashamed of at the moment.
“Speak,” his modulator always manages to send sparks to your toes.
“I respect you Grievous, so much. Every time we fight I can’t focus and give it my all because I’m…” you worry your bottom lip as you try to think of the right words.
“What?!” He lowers his face plate so close to you that the temperature of the air changes. The duranium metal chilling.
“I’m too busy thinking about how much I want to,” you pause and your face reddens, “How much I want to submit to you.”
This clearly gets the Kaleesh’s attention, “Submit?”
“I- Kark- I’m attracted to you!” You finally spit out the words.
Grievous narrows his eyes to little more than slants again, his breathing harder through his modulator. Surprisingly, his talon on your chest leaves and he disengages his lightsabers. You blink up at him in surprise that he believed you.
“Grievous, I'm serious. I-“
“Up,” he commands you.
There is no room for argument. You try to stand on unsteady legs, coughing and falling forward with some blood in your mouth. You don’t hit the floor though, a strong metallic hand holding you up. The general doesn’t look you in the eye, but guides you sternly out of the training room.
His pace is brisker than you can comfortably manage, but you don’t argue. You’re confused at his reaction to your confession, but you are at least alive for the moment. Grievous takes you to a room you don’t recognize. It appears to be a supply room, with shelves and drawers of different tools and weapons. There’s also a bench there with a work table, surely one that has been in recent use.
“Where-?” You question then change your mind as you spot a collection of lightsabers on display. This wasn’t the time for talking. You were in his room. HIS room.
“Sit,” he ordered.
You weren’t sure where exactly he meant for you to sit and he hadn’t given any indication. There was a stool by the work table and a very large, curiously built chair in the opposite corner. No beds, though you guess that would make sense as he doesn’t have an organic body anymore. Steel doesn’t need comfort to rest.
Unsure but not wanting to risk any wrath, you pick the stool. It’s uncomfortable as expected and your probably-broken rib protests a bit. Grievous sets his lightsabers down with the rest of his collection. You have no doubt this is only a portion of the full amount of his trophies.
“Grievous?” You finally questioned as the silence and waiting was getting to your nerves.
“Patience,” he grumbles then coughs.
“Of course,” you watch intensely at the mechanics of his exoskeleton as he wipes it down from the dirt of all the training from the day.
You never cared much for such things until you met him. It didn’t take long at all for you to have started reading up on cybernetics in your spare time, captivated by the science of the object of your affection. Grievous turns around and a flood of arousal hits you like a tsunami as your eyes meet. His eyes pierce you cleaner than any lightsaber or blaster. You hold your breath as he stalks back over to you, placing a cool talon on your chin.
He tilts your chin up slightly, “Curious.”
“What is?” You question as his eyes scan your face.
“You seem to have been telling the truth,” he runs that talon up your cheek and you shiver at the contact. “It is unexpected.”
“Do…” you stammer a bit as his eyes don’t even blink in their stare, “do you feel something of the same?” You tighten your legs a bit to create some friction to relieve your swollen arousal, “Attraction, I mean. Is that why you brought me here?”
“No,” he states simply, making your heart sink. Now you feel a failure and a fool. “I have use for you though.”
“Use? You were about to kill me before I confessed my feelings?!” You raise your voice, feeling embarrassed enough to cry.
He grabs your cheeks in a vice grip and lowers himself to be face to face, “Watch your voice!” Despite your mixed emotional state, your body flutters in response. “Count Dooku would have you killed for your failure, returning to your planet was never an option once he took you.”
“Then…what do you plan?” Your voice is uncharacteristically small.
“An alternative,” he lessens his hold but you don’t dare try to break free, “You have been studying on cybernetics.”
“How did you-”
“I pay attention,” he drops his hold and folds his arms behind his back to straighten up, “I would see you put to use as a personal mechanic, instead of wasted as bantha fodder.” You grimace at the idea. “You will pledge your loyalty to me.”
“If I don’t?” You can’t help but ask.
Grievous tightens his gaze and you nearly cream yourself in a twisted sense of pleasure from the fear it strikes in you, “You die.”
“I-I pledge myself to you,” you agree.
“Wholly?” He questions, “Mind, body, and spirit?”
“Yes,” you can barely breathe.
“Yes, what?” He wraps his hand around your delicate neck in a show of dominance.
“Yes…” you search your mind for the best term, “Master.” The word leaving your lips has you wetter than before, almost making you ashamed. Almost.
“Good,” he releases you and stalks to the strange chair in the corner. You watch as he sits in it like a puzzle fitting in the perfect piece. “Stand.” You do it immediately, as though the force itself is making you. “Undress.”
“What?” You are confused.
He coughs violently before growling out his words, “Don’t question me! Do as you are told.”
“Yes master,” you take your belt off first, carefully placing it and your lightsaber on the work table.
“Quicker,” he demands.
“Yes master,” you strip down to your underwear, grimacing as you see the bruising bloomed on your body from your sparring. Though, you’re not sure it could be considered sparring at this point.
“The drawer,” Grievous’ modulator cuts to life again and the gooseflesh is visible across your body, “You will find bacta. Use it.”
“Thank you,” you nod in understanding and find the syringe. The contents swirl like oil and water. Carefully you insert the needle between your broken ribs and press the plunger. Relief is immediate and the angry bruises fade.
“Come here,” the general commands, his talons drumming his thigh plates.
You do as told, carefully sitting yourself on his leg. The cool metal sends shivers up your spine and his hand wrapping around your waist sends them right back down to your toes. It’s wrong, you know. It was wrong to have feelings for the barely organic man before this new dynamic was in place. Now the power imbalance you knew lingered between the two of you was solidified the moment you pledged yourself to him. In your mind you understand this, but your body seems to thrive on it. The contrast of temperature between yourself and the kaleesh cyborg deepens as you heat up under his fierce gaze.
“What do you wish of me, master?” You barely find the voice to speak.
His grip on your waist tightens just enough to cause a sharp pain along your soft flesh as he moves his face closer to you. Fear flows through you, immingled with your arousal and embarrassment. Breathing becomes difficult although the air is well ventilated and your injuries are healed.
“You will speak when spoken to,” Grievous’ voice nearly purrs, his face plate vibrating against your neck. The position is surprisingly intimate and you can almost imagine he cares for you like this. As though you are just two lovers enjoying their privacy. The sudden grip on the back of your neck is a sharp reminder that this is not the case. “Remove the rest of your clothes.”
“All-” you slip up to question his order and the forceful tug of your neck backwards corrects you.
“Will you continue such resistance?” His question is laced with the threat of what’s to come.
“No,” you close your eyes and try to ignore how your arousal is now coating the metal of his leg.
His only response is a quick unhanding to let you sit back up and discard the rest of your clothing. Your chest and face are flushed under his gaze. You quiver as he once again wraps his talons around your waist and pulls you back onto his lap. Carefully, you reach out with the force to try and read his intentions. Was he just trying to humiliate you into your new role, or was this something more for him?
Grievous doesn’t notice your subtle intrusion as his free hand starts tracing your limbs. All you can manage to sense from him is curiosity, given how unfocused you are in the situation. A single talon has traveled from your ankle to the end of your thigh and finds itself dangerously close to your mound.
He chuckles as you whimper, the tension palatable. A subtle tap on your thigh tells you to let your legs fall open. Your body jerks as that talon brushes against your core. The electricity is instant and your body seeks another touch of its own accord, pressing yourself harder against him with a slight rocking closer toward his body.
“Impatient,” he scolds and releases his second set of arms, “I will not be rushed.”
You nod your understanding, words beyond your ability as his metallic hands return to you. One is secure around your neck, not squeezing but possessive. Another is against the dip of your lower back. The third is keeping pressure against your knee to keep you completely exposed to him. The final is what has your attention though, as it brushes you again. The touch is impossibly light for his frame. Barely more than a breeze against your wet lips.
Grievous moves between your labia and clit, occasionally brushing your entrance. The lack of pressure along with the presence of the other three hands have you melting. Your chest rises and falls hard, not going unnoticed by your new master. Few things get past him in battle, the bedroom is no different.
“Please,” you begin to shudder, “Please, Grievous, I need-”
You’re cut off as he tightens his grasp of your neck, “I care not what you need!” Without warning, he slips the entirety of one of his talons into your core. Your eyes roll back at the pleasure it gives you, uncaring of the real threat of asphyxiation you’re under. “Oh?” He pulls the digit back out and returns with two, “Enjoying yourself?”
You try to answer as his grip loosens slightly but all that comes out is a wanton sound akin to a tooka cat in heat. The hand on the curve of your back presses you closer, impaling you again on his talons. You feel embarrassment yet again at the sound of your body meeting him with such enthusiasm.
“I asked you a question,” he coughs slightly in irritation, spreading his talons apart inside of you in a way that has stars prick your vision.
“Yes,” you choke out, “Oh yes, please, master Grievous.”
You feel your knee pushed back with greater force and your body pulled even closer to him. A third talon enters you with no resistance as your slick rolls down to his thigh. You can do nothing but surrender to his will as he rocks you toward an aggressive climax. It's what you had wanted after all, what you have dreamed about. Not exactly like this, but close enough. So many nights spent coming undone around your own fingers or lightsaber hilt to the thought of this Kaleesh warlord ravishing you.
“Grievous, I’m-” you stutter as his grip tightens around your neck again, “Oh kriff, I’m so close.”
The rope in you is threadbare, but just as you are about to tip over the precipice he suddenly stops. The sob that retches from your throat makes Grievous laugh again. That’s when you understand that look in his eyes. It was so alien to you before, but now you know. This was all another fight. You had no doubt you were being used, but this was more than just a display of dominance. He wanted to break you, and sithspit if you didn’t want him to.
After an agonizing minute of a complete standstill, he moves again. Your climax passed, but would build again in no time. This time he rubs at your clit as he fingers you. Grievous gives enough slack that you can thrust in time with his motions. Again, you find yourself barrelling toward your peak. This time you don’t announce it, hoping to reach it before he notices. You knew it wouldn’t work though, because he always notices.
Just as your body tenses for release he withdraws himself, leaving you clenching around nothing and your orgasm failed yet again. The tears in your eyes are of a gratifying type of frustration. You meet his eyes, hoping he would understand your silent plea for release by his hand.
No such luck is found. Instead, Grievous brings you to the cusp several times over. Each time you are denied it just makes you crave another round. It’s a delicious torture you’d only want from him. Your hands wrap around his head this time, pressing his faceplate into your neck as you are more bold in your movements. He growls at your display of control, his grip on your leg and back cutting your skin. You rock hard against him, feeling as though nothing will stop you this time.
“You will finish when I allow it!” Grievous shouted and picked you off of him by your neck, tossing you onto the floor. You don’t have a chance to speak as he’s on top of you in an instant. His hands move you to be face down against the ground, pressing your shoulders and raising your hips as high as possible. “I am in control here, Chitlik.”
You groaned at his words and display, pushing your rear closer to him. You could feel a shift through the force as his anger lessened with your compliance. He entered you again, this time slower and more careful. He drug his talons until they hit a particularly sensitive spot that made your body jolt. Concentrating on it, he moved himself faster. Your mouth fell open as he worked you into a drooling mess. The only thing keeping your body up was his grip on your hips.
You let loose a collection of curses in different languages, yet again hoping he would finally let you get the pleasure you seeked. A hand found its way to your neck and pulled you up to rest against his chest plates. You ignored the protests from your knees and leaned back into him, the smell of duranium and his armorweave cape filling your senses. You kept your eyes open this time, locking onto his yellow ones.
He shifted his talons in you, making you see stars at the edge of your vision. His hands tightened possessively over your neck and pressed harder on your lower abdomen. Grievous was challenging you, but you had no interest in it. You wanted to be his, wanted to be used like this. An hour into this particular use had you too exhausted to challenge him even if you didn’t want to submit. With what little focus you could manage, you pressed the feeling against him with the force. Grievous may not have been force-sensitive, but he was still organic under that shell. He could feel your desires to serve and be pleased by him.
Finally the coil that had been wound tighter and tighter in you snapped. Squirting over his hands and floor, your body fell forward. Grievous caught you as he had before, carrying you over to his chair and placing you upon it. You didn’t speak, too tired to try as you watched him gather a towel and clothing for you. A sort of aftercare in your mind, as deluded as that was.
“I will speak to Dooku and have you officially reassigned,” Grievous spoke from his entry door, “Your lightsaber will make a fine addition to my collection.” He spun your blade in his hand before attaching it to himself and leaving you alone.