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"The Boys want a taste of you."
Kylo took off his cloak and new helmet in the boudoir/office. He took his boots off. Put everything away in their proper place.
Rey lifted her eyes from the data-pad, watched her 'husband' walk in. He stopped in the doorway to the living area, then walked the rest of the way to the cupboard to find the blue cordial he was fond of in moments of stress.
"You're serious," she realized.
"I put them off as long as I could, love."
"And you agreed."
He poured a second glass of the marine liqueur, put it before her, with the bottle. Sat down. He didn't say a word.
The integrity of the Knights of Ren was paramount to the success of their mission — to sabotage the First Order. If the Knights turned against them… They would be a force to reckon with.
Rey tried to imagine just what scenario they were hoping for, but her newfound lust for her husband — as wild as it could get — failed her. "… taste me. How…"
Kylo was trying to control himself, fingers drumming on the table. Anguish? Excitement? She couldn't tell. He shot the liquor back.
"I don't know yet. They certainly want to touch you, your body. I think they want to kiss you."
"I'm not kissing anyone but you."
He reached for her hand and squeezed it. "They would kneel to you, my Supreme Consort. Swear fealty. That's the condition I managed to impose. You would sit on my throne, while they pledge their undying love to you."
Rey gulped down her own shot and rolled the glass between fingers. "That sounds almost… quaint." But she was not fooled. "Kiss me… where?"
"Well now, that depends on your… tolerance, I suppose. "You did let them witness our Consummation of the Wedding Vows. And they have been watching surveillance footage of us, together."
"You mean they have been wanking to us fucking."
"Rey… you always surprise me when you speak that way."
Kylo could have an odd sense of propriety, at times. But Rey knew to call a cat, a cat. Or in this case, a pussy.
"You've already killed one of them," he reminded her.
The spirit was starting to work her. She was warming to the idea. She was starting to visualize which dress she could wear to sit on the throne.
"Have you done this kind of ceremony before?"
"No. But we have shared who— I mean… we went to brothels together— b-but this would be different."
Rey barked a laugh, and poured two more glasses for them. "It better be."
"Then you agree?"
"To this farce? Sure. But you have to watch."
"Of course, I wouldn't dream of leaving you alone with them—"
"—and pick out the dress. I'm curious as to how much 'access' you want to give them."
"That's Rose's job—
"Absolutely not. She is not to know anything about this… ceremony."
That settled, they both downed their drinks.
…
In the morning of the appointed day, Kylo showered with her, caressing and petting her bush. He douched her. He shaved his face clean, then looked at her wild little bush of hair.
"Let's shave that," he told her.
"What, today?"
"Today's a great day for that, don't you think?"
"Just how far do you think this… farce, will get?"
"As far as you let it, I told you. But I know you now. You like to tease. You're a brat."
She did like to tease. She spread her legs, and he shaved her to pink softness. Of course, he fingered her, to check for stubble. Naked, the sensation was closer, more intense. And while he was down there, he ate her out, roughly fingering her until she was hot and puffy; but he didn't let her come. He flipped her around, and rimmed her ass, fingering it as well. Rey was getting use to this form of caress. It still hurt her when he tried to breach her though, so they were still at the 'godemichet' phase. He produced one now. Red gem and black material, like her collar. Rey laughed, but let him put it into her. She'd quickly realized how they doubled her pleasure, letting the Dark Side's passion flow through her like magma, surge like a volcano.
They got out of the shower, Rey a little woozy from the stimulation. They were alone, Rose had been dispatched on some errand, planetside. She would be gone for the day. Probably the night, too, she would be accompanied by a very affectionate rebel stormtrooper.
"Take me," she asked him, but he shook his head.
"No. Here's your dress."
On Rey's bed, was a small bag, and the dress. Surprisingly, it was long and flowy, made from some shimmering silk. Black, with red undertones. It fit perfectly with her ruby-obsidian leather collar, and now, plug. It was made in two sections: the top was tight as a corset, the material stretchy, to hug her curves. The skirt was simple, yet ample, flaring out at her hips. Opaque. It would cover her naked feet, and flow beautifully when she walked. The sleeves were overlong, like most of her dresses.
He braided her hair — a simple one today — going down her back. He watched her put her makeup on. She'd learned how to do it, it was simple enough: alabaster foundation, black kohl for her eyes. Blood red upper lip, with a bold stripe down her lower lip, partway down her chin. He had to resist kissing her as he added the final touch: those red dots precisely placed under her eyes.
He helped her dress; the corset-like top was snug, but over her breasts the silk had been woven and shaped in such a way as to cup her breasts, and not flatten them. Rey looked at herself in the mirror, at her breasts. Not loose, the cloth was of a finer silk, thin; her nipples almost poked through.
"Tease them, huh? Like you teased me in the shower?" She could feel the fabric of her panties rub directly over the naked skin of her still-moist cunt.
"I want them to worship you," he told her.
She walked around their quarters, twirled before the mirror, the dress swooshed around her, it was an amazing luxury.
A short cape completed the ensemble. She tied it over her shoulders, brought the hood to cover her head. All in all, everything was covered but her feet and hands, those were hidden by the reach of hem and sleeves. She was a red and black ghost. "Let's go."
He was dressed in ceremonial armour, complete with his new mask, and she was reminded of the first time they met, when he had abducted her in the forest, on Takodana. She was reminded of the terror she had felt then.
A lift connected the Supreme Leader's quarters to the Throne Room. He stopped it midpoint. He took off his helm and held over his hip.
"Lift up your dress," he told her.
Of course she complied, she was transitioning from wild scavenger to her role of subdued Consort, both prize and spoil of the galactic war. He reached to touch her, caressed her white-gold hips and thighs with gloved fingers. The well-worn leather was still rough in places. He reached into her red lace panties and caressed her again, running fingers over her clit, to down between her folds.
Rey throbbed at the naked sensation, sighed, still holding up the skirt. Rough fingers prodded her, finally breached her. Friction heat added to the lust he had already built into her. Built but frustrated. He found more slick.
He removed his fingers.
"Lush," he remarked on the moisture glistening on his gloves. He pulled at her panties. "Remove them."
Would he take her here, in the lift? Would he fill her with his seed, just before the ceremony?
She pushed the red lace down, to fall to the floor of the lift. He crouched low to pick them up, looked at her exposed cunt. He blew a breath over it, and she pulsed with desire.
He couldn't resist one more kiss. He opened her up and latched softly onto her clit, suckling gently, humming, while Rey fought to stay up.
"Ben, I'm gonna–"
He stopped, getting back up. "Alright." He kissed her lightly so as not to mess up her makeup. The skirts were let down again. He put on his helm; the lift continued its way, then opened.
All Rey could think about was the swollen heat of her cunt. She was hot all over. Her ass felt full of promise for the later pleasure, after the ceremony.
The Knights were already there, waiting. Fully armoured, helmets on. No weapons.
A grav-lift table was close to the dais, covered with rich red cloth, a few carafes of jewel-coloured wines, glasses, and fruit in a beaten golden bowl set upon it. Candles. Two more, smaller bowls were visible, some liquid in one. And something that looked like a pestle and mortar.
Vicrul welcomed them. He offered her a glass of wine, but didn't take one for himself. "For nerves," he told her. "We'll get ours later."
Rey sniffed the purple liquid, finding it rich and heady, then gulped her glass down, looking around. Everything looked formal, yet felt very relaxed. Even the lighting was dimmed, adding a feeling of intimacy.
Intimacy with the Knights of Ren. Who still wore their helms.
"We looked over some of the texts," Vicrul started, "but couldn't quite find this exact situation. Supreme Leader Snoke scoffed at women, as you know; so did Emperor Palpatine. Our Lord Darth Vader was celibate after the loss of his wife. On our side, the Knights' side, only one other woman ever directed our order, but there are no records of how the passing of powers was enacted."
"So, we'll improvise, then?" asked Kylo.
"We did find some ancient sacred texts, from old human civilizations." Vicrul turned to Rey. "Pray, show us your feet." Rey lifted one side of her skirt. "Perfect. Whenever you are ready, My Lady Ren."
"What do I do?"
"Sit. Take your rightful place upon the Supreme Throne."
Assisted by her husband, Rey ascended the few steps to the dais, saw that a thick cushion had been placed there for her, and with a swish of skirts, sat on the Obsidian Seat of power. She waited, enjoying the warmth of the wine. A few spotlights fell on the throne, the Seat of Power, illuminating her, hidden in her dark cowl.
She watched Vicrul exchange a few words with Kylo, who nodded. He gave a sign, and the other Knights gathered close, listening.
The Knight named A'plek picked up the metal bowl Rey had thought of as a mortar, and tapped the side with the 'pestle'. It rang a single, pleasant note.
Vicrul picked up one of the bowls on the altar and walked up the dais to stand beside her. He declared: "We of the Order of the Knights of Ren are here today to consecrate the acceptance of Rey, Princess of Jakku, Consort to the Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, as Mistress of the Knights of Ren."
Rey cocked an eyebrow, then pushed back her hood, revealing her painted face. She straightened in her seat, hands on her thighs, observing the pack of Ren wolves below.
"The ceremony will be conducted in several rounds, each a new vow to the Mistress." He looked around. Everyone looked ready.
"Master Kylo, if you would uncover the Princess' feet and make the first vow?" Vicrul called out.
So the first round went so: Kylo approached his Throne, and knelt before her. He was also completely covered in his black armour; with gloved hands, he lifted her skirt a few centimetres, enough to reveal her feet. He pulled them forward. She heard him sigh with contentment. He loved her feet.
He removed his helm and placed it at her feet, a little to the right of her. Vicrul placed the bowl within reach of his hand, Rey catching a glimpse and a scent as it passed her: a fragrant oil.
Kylo removed his glove, then dipped fingers into it, to anoint each foot, before he bent down to kiss them, first the right, then the left one. Rey felt his hot breath on them. She discretely grasped the material so it wouldn't fall and cover her feet again.
He straightened, still kneeling, and focused his gaze on her, face impassive, but eyes conveying calm. He spoke:
"I vow to be a solid foundation to the Princess of Jakku, so she may rely on me to build a strong Fiefdom."
Rey thought to acknowledge his pledge: "I accept."
Vow spoken, he rose again, and backed down the dais.
Vicrul was next. He knelt before her in the same place, and removed his own helm and gloves and placed the helm on the left. Rey finally saw his face: an older man, scarred, broken nose, ice-blue eyes. He nodded reassurance at her, waiting, and Rey realized she had been holding her breath. She nodded back.
Vicrul leaned down and kissed her feet. "I vow to uphold my Princess like the cobblestone streets of ancient cities, he announced, before moving back down the dais, leaving the perfumed oil on the highest step, for the next rite.
Cardo was next. Like his Master and the Second, he removed his helm — revealing an ugly brute of a man — then bent low to also make his vow. It was a variation of Vicrul's and Kylo's before her. He would be the ground she could walk on to reach her destiny.
One by one, they made their way to her feet, taking off their helmet to place them around and below her. She saw most of them were human. All of then humanoid. Skin colour varied, texture too. One had soft scales, another was almost as hairy as a Wookie. Kuruk's bearded kisses were lingering. Trudgen gave them a little lick. A'plek, a little suck.
They did say they wanted to taste me, Rey thought. The wine was making her hot, she removed her cloak and set it aside.
Now the helms were off, the men were served the wine and they drank in appreciative silence. Rey's glass was refilled.
The bowl was rung again.
Kylo moved up to her again. In the light cast down upon her seat, the thin silk over her breasts was almost transparent. Her dark carmine nipples, apparent. He said nothing.
For this second round, the skirt was brought up to reveal her knees. When Kylo rubbed a dab of oil between them, then kissed them, she wanted to let them fall open, but refrained herself.
"I vow to run like the wind whenever she calls." He winked at her, whispered: "Show them."
Vicrul came next. His grave mien reminded Rey of the depth of their fanaticism. This Order had existed for generations, even before Darth Vader had found them on Mustafar and given them a new mission.
Now they were hers to command. She parted her knees just a fraction, just so they may catch a glimpse of golden inner thighs.
One by one, they kissed her knees, and vowed to be at her beck and call. She better saw their faces now, saw their eyes focus on her, then shine with an emotion she could not name.
Another sip of heady wine. She parted her knees a little more, knowing those below would see the thin line of her pale cunt stand out from the darkness of her long dress. Energy, Dark, sensuous energy, was filling the space, like wisps of incense.
Vicrul spoke.
"We the Knights of Ren form a single body. The Master should not have favourites." From a pocket he produced a blindfold. Rey looked at her husband. He was flushed, but face impassive. Through the Bond, she felt spikes of jealousy. This play excited him. And that in turn excited her. She nodded. He nodded.
Vicrul handed her the blindfold, and Rey slipped the black satin band over her eyes.
The bowl was rung for the third round.
"Who here vows to defend the Consort's Honour against all enemies?" Vicrul called out, a change in protocol.
"I do." That low baritone was Kylo's. Blind, she felt him move up the dais to kneel before her. What could he do? He put gloved hands on her knees, and tested her.
I can stop this anytime, she thought to herself. She let him spread them some more. She let him mark a new place with oil, then push his head in, his hair brushing against her thighs.
She stopped him, halfway. Hand on his head, she turned him to kiss her thigh.
"I do," he repeated.
"I accept your vow," she answered. He moved back. She felt for the hem of her dress, placed it precisely mid-thigh. She could feel the heat of the projectors on her, knew the angle must reveal her to them, white flesh in dark folds.
The men murmured. Another spoke up. "I do."
She didn't quite know the voice, but she let her senses reach out and get a feel for the man coming up the steps next.
She felt bearded cheeks brush up against her thighs. She put her hand on this head, learning the texture of his hair, mid-length. He was disciplined and didn't try to push past the silken line she had drawn. She felt bare forehead skin; "Kuruk Ren," she acknowledged. She felt him smile against her sensitive skin. "I accept."
Next she caressed a face covered in soft, flexible scales, soft feathers crowning a ovoid head. "Trudgen Ren," Rey recognized him. Thin lips parted, letting a tongue just touch her. Cold.
Rey could feel moisture pool within her folds, imagining where things might go, where they might end up, with so many men eager to serve her. The next face between her thighs was all covered in short soft fur, and his deep snorts told her he could scent her arousal, kept barely a hand's distance away. Another lick on her thigh, the tongue, rougher, textured.
"A'plek Ren." He breathed excitement.
Only Cardo and Vicrul were left. She recognized the next call.
"I do."
Light stubble, short shorn hair she knew were greying. High forehead. Eldest among them, frustrated by the change, but loyal to his master, and now to her. She felt real tenderness in his kisses on her thighs.
"Vicrul Ren."
"You are magnificent," he told her.
Last of this round was Cardo. Big, ugly man, she knew he was consumed with desire for her. She felt Kylo's worry through the Bond: this knight was hard to control.
Rey felt for the Force, held it ready. His massive presence marched up the stairs, the dais shook when he fell to one knee. Rey reflexively closed her legs, waiting for him to push through right to her core.
She waited.
And waited. Finally she felt his thin lips on her knees.
The room was silent, breaths hitched.
"I accept," she reminded herself, and the brute before her was allowed between her thighs, breath heavy with barely controlled desire. She could feel the heat of it on her mound, just inches away. He pushed forward— she stopped him. "Cardo Ren." she told him, "in time," making him a promise she knew she would have to keep. With effort, he kissed her, twice, then pulled back from her, and marched back down the steps.
The silken dress was sure to be stained with Rey's slick, but she wanted to push back the inevitable a few more steps. She was hot under the projectors, and she leaned back against the seat, at a slight incline. She left her dress up over her legs, the latter still parted just the width of Cardo's head, keeping their focus on her centre.
She tucked a finger under her blindfold to lift it and looked at herself, at her breasts, poking through the fabric. They deserved some attention.
"Vicrul Ren," she called, "Bring me the fruit knife." The Ritual was improvised, she could make a few contributions herself. She was half the Dyad-Master, after all. Vicrul obeyed.
It was sharp. Carefully, she cut a vertical slit over each breasts, spreading the silk to free each one from the hot fabric.
They want to taste me.
"Vow that I am the Mother of the Knights of Ren," she announced. "The source of nourishment."
She had two breasts. She called two Knights. "Vicrul Ren, Kuruk Ren, to me. Remove your gloves."
She lay back further on the chair, that adapted to her angle; she let her legs fall further open. As the men walked up to her, she dipped into her core, picking up the overflowing moisture, and spread it on her nipples.
"Suckle, that you may drink," she directed them, blindfold back in place.
They complied, bending over her, each caressing, then kissing a breast. She reached hands into their hair, caressing them, and they licked her juices from her nipples, before they got to suckling. The sensations were terrific, they were humming appreciatively, finally allowed a real taste of her flesh. Hands caressed and held the firm mounds, tongues lapped, and she blindly grabbed one hand and pushed it down her body, to her core, to collect more moisture for the next knights to taste. She let fingers push into her; pleasure surged.
She felt the Dark energy in the room swell and flow around each of the men. Kylo's jealousy barely held in check by the power that his Passion for his wife gave him, that coursed through him, until he almost glowed with it. Only Cardo's hunger matched it.
Fluid was gathered, one hand pulled out, another replaced it, pushing inside her, digging, thrusting, but she resisted the pleasure. A nipple was sucked deep before finally it was released, and covered in more juices from her cunt, for the next Knight to come up the dais. She didn't need to call the next one, they came willingly. One rough tongue and one cold tongue, short-clawed fingers that took turn making her feel their desire and hunger for her, spreading her juices over her lips and exploring her naked mons, sharp surprised gasps when they discovered the jewelled plug right below her now overflowing cunt.
"You are the Mother, Rey Ren," they vowed to her in turn.
Kylo and Cardo were last. Kylo was now so full of Passion, he thought he could kill them all at once, and every knight felt his Power. Rey could feel his jealous pleasure as it twisted within him. Satisfied, he let Cardo have the last suckle, the man's blunt fingers driving into his wife's cunt, stretching her for later.
For, feeling for her, he knew she accepted the conclusion of this ceremony.
He put a hand on Cardo shoulder.
"Eat, Cardo Ren," he told him. "You will feed from no other from now on."
"I accept," the Brute grunted, abandoning the breast to move to fall on his knees at Rey's red and puffy cunt, slick with the juices of so much stimulation.
And eat he did, large muscular tongue and mouth covering her completely, and Rey let the sensation overwhelm her, finally reaching a long-delayed climax. Her cries echoed all throughout the Throne Room.
Cardo released her cunt, panting, finally grunting his own orgasm into his britches. He fell back, drunk, and it took him a moment before he could rise again.
Rey lay there, tits out, skirt up, legs shaking. Still blindfolded.
Vicrul came to stand beside Kylo. "I think we're done?"
"You don't know her. Give her a minute. And another glass of wine."
"Really?"
"Violence or pleasure, Vicrul. She spent all her life defending her virtue. Now she's done with that. She wants."
Kylo gestured around them, at the Force pulsing with them. "Feel that? Just don't hurt her, she'll kill you."
Rey lifted her head, "How many rounds left?"
"As many as you'll allow, my Lady."
"What next, then?"
"I suggest you all eat her flesh," Kylo said. "She really loves that."
"We should move her to the altar then."
"Wife?"
"Yes."
The altar was cleared of most things but the red velvet cover. Four of the men picked their blindfolded idol and carried her spread eagle down the steps, to lay her upon for the sacrifice of the rest of her virtue.
The dress was becoming a hindrance. Kylo retrieved the knife, held it aloft as if he would cut her open for a sacrifice, then flipped it and carefully drew it down the front, from collar to hem. Another beautiful confection ruined for the Masters' lust. He opened the garment up.
Rey lay on the deep-red interior, naked skin like golden bread.
She was offered more wine, which she drank, though its effects paled in comparison with the Power she now held within her.
"I can feel… all of you," she told them, "You are my children." She settled herself on the altar. It was just tall and wide enough to hold her body.
The altar's height was adjusted.
"More wine," she asked.
Someone brought her the flask. She poured the blood-red liquid it upon herself, on her breasts, her stomach, her cunt. The cool liquid made her shiver.
"Husband," she called, "share me between our Devoted. Come feed from my flesh."
The single note rang out again.
They barely managed not to rush her, eyeing their Master as he took over as Master of Ceremony for this ravage. Vicrul was rewarded with her still fresh cunt, the others waited their turn, finding a breast, a flank, bathed in the fruity wine, licking then sucking. Rey moaned, twisted. Suck marks started to appear on her arms, her thighs, as they moved their mouths over her.
Kylo reserved her mouth for himself. He kissed her.
"I love you," he told her.
"I love you," she echoed, between moans.
The Knights went around in a circle, breast, flank, cunt, whatever skin they could latch onto, Cardo fitting in queue again. Blindfolded under the hot spotlight, Rey learned their mouths and tongues, how deep each could reach into her, how well each could suck her in. When she felt Kylo, his fingers reached for and removed the plug. A new hole was available.
Hands lifted her legs, spread them and folded her over to get to the new offering, and multiple tongues licked at her. The second bowl contained a grease; fingers thrust into her, pleasure surged again, rising, rising.
"Kylo…" she called.
He bent to hear her.
"I hunger and thirst for you."
When Kylo pulled himself out of his britches to give himself to her, it signalled the next step. Seeding.
Rey stroked her Dyad's cock, and pulled him to her mouth, and he put hands on either side of her head on the altar, both to be better placed, and to keep his balance.
Reverently, all the men pulled their cocks out. They stroked themselves, still caressing or licking or fingering their idol, and looked at Kylo, waiting for his signal. He looked down at her, eyes still covered, red lips moving, working him. Hands moved over her, hands stroked cocks over her.
"All the way?" he asked his wife.
"Be the first," she told him.
So he moved to place himself between her legs and pushed himself into her puffy, pink cunt, and the cry she gave when she felt him enter her was almost enough to make him climax. He pumped into her, the Prime Knight, and Rey blindly reached out with her hands to find the others. One by one, they put their cocks on her or in her, where they could. She stroked and sucked. Big and small, human and not, two of them red and slimy, one thin and ridged, the other with a thick bulge at the base.
Someone suggested she flip over and Kylo picked her up to sit himself on the altar, making the grav-lift work harder to hold them up.
Rey straddled him, ass up. She took him into herself. Trudgen was chosen for her ass: he was long but thin.
He rimmed her, of course, his tongue also long and thin, occasionally licking Kylo's balls and cock, and Kylo was reminded he was part of the Dyad, and thus part of the ceremony. Trudgen didn't balk and throated him, still fingering Rey. In between moans and sucking on A'plek red rocket, the Dyad kissed. Then Trudgen decided Rey was relaxed enough to push himself into her.
It was a new sensation for Rey, one Kylo had been prepping her for for days. Between them moving within her, she was overwhelmed. Within a few thrusts her every muscles locked up. Her every senses whited out. She climaxed.
It was as if a lightning chain hit every one of them.
Rey was suddenly both filled and covered in shots of pearly seed, all the men grunting or hissing or whining, or even sobbing, over her and Kylo. Some fell to the ground, stupefied. Trudgen slipped from her ass and Cardo pushed his way over to Rey's gaping hole, to reach in and clean up whatever leaked out.
Vicrul pulled up his britches and stumbled over to the dais, where he sat down. He found the last bottle and poured himself a new glass.
The Dyad lay, still entwined. Cardo reluctantly gave up waiting for Kylo to relinquish Rey's cunt, still buried deep inside her.
After a moment, Kuruk spoke.
"I lost track where we are in the ritual."
"Intermission, now, I think."
"How long?"
"I'm hungry."
"Already?"
"For food."
"Ah. Rey Ren…" Vicrul asked, "Are you satisfied?"
Kylo slapped her ass, waking her from her stupor.
She pushed herself up, letting Kylo's now soft cock slip from her gaping pussy. Cardo immediately perked up, but she put her hand up, and he sat back down.
"I'm a bit sore. Kylo?"
"I'm good." He looked at his beautiful wife, still flushed with the pleasure she had shared with them. All of them. She was gloriously naked, muscular, covered in their seed, but for her face. He kissed her.
The Supreme Couple untangled and sat together on the throne. The men re-adjusted their clothing. A few offered their cloak to the woman so she wouldn't get cold.
Vicrul got up to ring the ceremonial bowl.
"The Ritual is ended, the Dyad-Master is consecrated," he intoned "Whatever task or service is demanded of us, we, Knights of Ren, will obey."
"We will obey," they intoned.
"Good!" Rey stood up. "Husband, I think today's exercise has prepared me for what you've been grooming me for all week." She announced. "A'plek Ren, be a good boy and accompany us: I've read things about what that Red Rocket can do. About the knot. The rest of you… all in good time."
With that Rey grabbed Kylo's hand and they made their way to the lift, A'plek following behind them.
The End