Chapter 3 - Penultimate

If there was one thing that Padmé had learned over the last few months, it was that she was driven by a lust for democracy, not so much a love of lawfulness or even order: a very real lust for democracy and the struggle for it. Sure, part of it was about the law -- but she didn't care as much about the letter of the law as she previously thought. What she cared about was the spirit of the law.

If she cared about the letter of the law, she wouldn't have a very primitive fire pit thrown together in her living room. A controlled fire in the middle of one's own home wasn't illegal, provided the person lighting it used all the appropriate technology and kept it safe. Padmé hadn't bothered. What she was doing was too spur of the moment for her to waste the time acquiring that kind of machinery, even if it would have only taken five minutes for her to hop online and order it. Even if it would have only taken AmaStar another five minutes to have a drone droid swoop in and deliver it.

"Damn it," the former Queen of Naboo whispered to herself, tossing her favourite shimmersilk robe into the pit -- just a big pot, really, with a handful of makeshift kindling tossed in and quickly doused with accelerant before she lit it on fire. She couldn't stand to look at the thing after the failure of her last mission: it was what she was wearing when she received her last holo-message from her enemy, her nemesis, Senator Karegav Cogdars.

She had put weeks of her life into that plan, because her previous plan had proved far too haphazard. Padmé failed to acquire the proof of his corruption, the proof that would set the people of Karegav's planet free from his corruption. First she tried to sneak into his home during one of his parties, only to learn it was an orgy. Though she kept up her public decorum, she was anything but a prude. When it became clear to her that the only thing that stood between her and success was a horny bodyguard -- well, she didn't put up very much resistance to getting dicked down by the handsome man guarding the other Senator's office.

On pure technicalities, that plan was a success. It took a good, long assfucking for it to come together, but in the end Padmé got what she needed. The assfucking was enjoyable enough that she didn't view it as a cost, per se -- the real cost was her having to stumble out of Karegav's office by the window, doing a secretive walk of shame back to her home in nothing more than her high heels.

If she cared about the law as much as she thought she did previously, she wouldn't have attempted the theft, and she sure as hell wouldn't have been flaunting the public indecency laws.

That's when she got the holo-message from Karegav: his threat. His proof of her fuck-up. His proof of the mission. Of course he had cameras littered around his house when he invited all the celebrities and kingmakers on Coruscant to come into his home and fuck the night away; of course he had captured footage of Padmé herself getting her ass reamed and begging for more of it. He made it clear to her that if she went public with what she dug up on him, he was ready to follow suit. They'd see what the galaxy found more enticing: a deep-dive into one Senator's corruption, or the hardcore and seemingly homemade sex tape of the youngest and hottest woman to ever take the floor and address the Galactic Senate.

As much as Padmé fancied herself an optimist, she wasn't that much of an optimist. Almost sulking, she watched the shimmersilk as it blackened and curled, flames spreading until the entire thing was alight, too thin to last long. The worst part of the holo-message was how nonchalant the bastard was all throughout it; when she first entered the orgy, Karegav was lounging, getting his cock serviced by one of Padmé's closest allies. The other female senator had only ever spoken ill of Karegav, and Padmé couldn't help but wonder at the time if she was coerced there.

The holo-message made it clear that wasn't the case. That senator, Ashlca Whitrich, was draped over his lap like a treasured pet, napping away, comfortable as could be. He brought her face to his cock while he taunted and laid out the situation plain-as-day to Padmé. If she was there unwillingly, Padmé would have expected her to react poorly to being woken up to a faceful of a hated man's cock, but instead she was happy to start sucking and licking him back to hardness. And that was to say nothing of how the holo-message ended, with him pulling Ashlca's legs back to give Padmé a clear look at how he was about to anally impale Padmé's ally. She knew, too. He didn't hide the fact he was recording a message to Padmé.

She clearly didn't care; Padmé could have understood if she had been coerced into the sex and got too caught up in it. She could have understood if Ashlca sent her a message and tried to explain herself. Instead, Ashlca said nothing -- and since that day, they hadn't said another word to each other. Padmé didn't try to change that. Maybe I should have, Padmé thought sullenly to herself, but she didn't let herself dwell on it more than acknowledging how much she missed Ashlca. For all the victories democracy had won throughout the galaxy, women still had to fight uphill battles throughout the Republic.

There were only a handful of women in the Senate, and of those less than half were on Padmé's side of the aisle. And of those, only one was anywhere remotely near Padmé's age bracket. Ashlca was the last person Padmé would have expected to see sucking Karegav's cock -- sucking it not just after it had clearly fucked her pussy, but after it had stretched out her tight little asshole. After the bastard had cummed in both her holes. She was happily married, for fuck's sake. That hadn't stopped Karegav, of course. He hadn't even bothered to remove his wedding ring. Not at the orgy, and not any time he left his Senate office with his latest conquest fresh off his dick, doing the wobble of shame away from them.

… Fuck. Padmé grimaced, then turned away from the fire and grabbed the next handful of things destined for the fire, a handful of datapads. A lot more work went into her next plan -- weeks of preparation, study and practice. It was no secret that Karegav had a different escort for each day of the week. The man's sexual appetite was ravenous and his libido seemingly endless. After a great deal of consideration, Padmé came to the conclusion that was her best chance of deleting Karegav's security footage, the proverbial sword he held over her head. It wasn't a mission she could put on anyone else's shoulders; she took a leave of absence from the Senate and spent weeks 'studying' with the Republic's most popular escorts, men and women alike.

Truly, Padmé wasn't a prude, but they opened her eyes to just how inexperienced Padmé was to compared to the galaxy's greatest sex workers. She had put in a lot of time, effort and credits into changing that. Of course, she wasn't going to try and convince Karegav to reform himself with mind-bogglingly good sex. No one was that optimistic; the bastard was too corrupt. And it wouldn't fix things, anyway. Nothing would, short of getting him arrested and deposed, freeing the people of his planet.

She spent an irresponsible amount of credits creating a fake identity for herself, then undergoing temporary surgery to become that person. More than a few of those credits had been embezzled from Naboo's people for that very purpose, to bring true democracy to another planet. It was deceitful and it was wrong, but Padmé was sure her people would understand, even though she was no longer their democratically-elected king. Even though there was no fucking way in hell she'd ever admit to what she had done. Réina Rydhér was fair-skinned and blonde while Padmé Amidala was olive-toned and dark-haired. Where Padmé's beauty came from her elegance, Réina was a deliberate sex kitten, the very image of what every repressed cute girl next door longed to become.

For a week, Padmé no longer existed. There was only Réina. Padmé stared down at the datapads. They, and a few strategically placed ads to catch Karegav's attention, were the only proof of her existence. It was Réina's job to fuck Karegav and use her youth to her advantage, wearing him out and giving herself a chance to sneak out and delete the recordings. If that meant fucking everyone else in Karegav's estate on the way there? Réina would be more than up for the task.

So much time and preparation went into the plan, but… in the end, it was just as shoddy as her first plan. Padmé assumed that as Réina, after all of her training, she'd have an easy time blowing Karegav's mind with her new skills.

"I'm sorry," Padmé whispered to the datapads. She felt like she was betraying a part of herself in destroying the only proof that Réina ever existed, and she had to remind herself that Réina hadn't. Réina was an idea, a fantasy. Her last name was Rydhér, and according to the overly elaborate and intricate backstory Padmé had cooked up for her, it wasn't a stage name. No one in their right mind would let a woman have Rydhér as a legal surname, and yet Padmé had. Even so, it was impossible to dismiss the feeling that Réina was a part of her, and that Réina wouldn't be destroyed so easily.

Still, she had to do this. Padmé couldn't leave any further proof of what debaucherous lengths she had gone to in her quest to liberate Karegav's planet from his corruption. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then dropped all the datapads into the fire. They would take longer to burn than Padmé's robe. Hastily, she threw in the rest of Reina's clothes over it, then tossed in a few other tchotchkes, unlucky enough to have become associated with Padmé's quest. Just like Réina hadn't existed, she hadn't accomplished her mission. Karegav outfucked and outfoxed her at every turn. The only one who got worn out by the sex was her -- Réina, supposed intergalactic star escort. He made Padmé cum like she had never cummed before, over and over again until it seemed like she was blacking out from sheer pleasure. It wasn't fair. He never flagged, and throughout the entire night he seemed to be able to cum endlessly, never running dry.

As part of training to become Réina, Padmé once let three men go at her for several hours. They made her cum a handful of times, and they left her absolutely filthy by the end of it, with cum on her tits and her face, on her ass and on her pussy. They were all exhausted by the ordeal. Despite the fact those three men were among the top fifteen male escorts on Coruscant, Karegav made them all look like little boys, like amateurs; each of his loads were like every single one of them cumming in her or on her twice in the exact same spot. In retrospect, it made her feel like she was a prim and proper little princess post-foursome.

Karegav alone, for over twelve hours straight? That was like an entire Huttball team ran a train over her. The sheer unfairness of it made her livid, though she was too sucked up in her own self-pity to display that anger while she burned the things she couldn't bear to look at anymore. It made her more livid than the fact she had once again failed to defeat Karegav, really, and that disturbed her. Being able to orgasm repeatedly and without delay was one of the benefits to being a woman, and not one every woman was so lucky to experience. It wasn't right that Karegav was able to do any of that.

Padmé reached to grab another thing to huck into the fire, but her fingers closed around nothing more than air. She frowned and glanced down, realizing that was it. It was all burning now, soon to be gone forever. Gone like her dreams of liberating Karegav's people were. She had been back to wearing Padmé's face -- my own face, the Senator reminded herself -- for a week now, but each reminder of her dream and attempts to make it reality nagged at her. Those nagging feelings didn't usually result in this: her, sulking and sullen, pouting to herself and recklessly burning things in the comfort of her own living room.

They usually (always, if she was being honest) resulted in her cheeks blushing a deep, deep red, the shade quickly mirrored by the swell of her constantly damp pussy. Her nipples got just that little bit harder and darker, too. After her first time in Karegav's estate, she found herself lusting after his bodyguard's cock. But after her second time there? After he so thoroughly mastered her body and humiliated her while she wore the guise of a professional escort? Padmé didn't lie to herself. As much as she loathed him, she was absolutely smitten with Karegav's body.

And that was why she had to give up her quest. It was too dangerous. She had to rein herself in and get the new problem under control; it was bad enough that she found herself dreaming of him every night, of surrendering her body to him like Réina did. Like Ashlca did. Padmé felt just awful for missing a month of Senate meetings as things stood, but destroying every reminder of Karegav in her home was just the first part of her detox. Next, she'd go to a Jedi monastery. Meditate. Clear her mind. Regain herself. Beat her addiction.

Drawing in another deep breath, Padmé lowered her hips slowly and perched herself on her favourite chair. Her sensitive pussy twitched with excitement as she slid back into it, first excited by the touch, then in disappointment and pleading when it realized it was just a chair. She had to resist the urge to bring her hand between her thighs and masturbate, something she had done far too many times over the last week, each time thinking about Karegav and remembering how he felt inside her. She knew she could find someone new to fuck every day for the rest of her life, and she would never have sex that was even as half as good as what she did with him.

She closed her eyes and crossed her legs, cutting off the option for herself. But that wasn't enough to head off Padmé's heightened libido, not by a longshot. The cross of her legs meant there was pressure put on her cunt, and that was really all her cunt needed to get the process started. In training to become Réina, she had mastered her kegels; her desperate pussy began working them of its own accord, leading an open revolt against Padmé's mind in its search for just that extra little bit of pleasure. At least, that's what Padmé told herself. It was easier than admitting any form of defeat. Soon, she splayed her thighs just wide enough to get her fingers down on her clit, her other hand coming to her breast to pinch and tease her nipple.

After a while, she got up and left the room. Not out of disgust for herself or anything like that; she grabbed the holo-message Karegav had sent her all those weeks ago and flicked it on, setting it up to play on repeat. Biting down hard on her bottom lip, she toyed and played with her body, watching how the other Senator made Ashlca worship his cock like it was made out of candy. She could have muted the message so she didn't have to hear his bullshit about the threat, but she didn't -- Padmé wanted to hear the sound of his voice. She wanted to hear him lord it over her, just like she wanted to remember what it felt like to have a cock in her ass. As she watched the portion of the message where he played back the recording of her tryst with Jaiedd, she imagined it was Karegav fucking her ass.

And when it swapped back and he was putting Ashlca on full display to her, seconds from mercilessly plowing her friend's arse, she imagined she was Ashlca.

Padmé had gone weeks without sex or masturbation before, but this was the first week where she had to make herself avoid people she found attractive. It was one thing to be constantly masturbating, but she didn't trust herself around other men in her state, even if they weren't Karegav. When she went in to get her facial transformation reversed, she came dangerously close to sucking the overseeing doctor's cock in her horniness. She knew she was on a slippery slope. Slowly, she slipped a bit further down it, shifting back in her chair and shimmying her hips until she could expose her asshole, abandoning her nipple in favor of beginning to finger it and her pussy at the same time.

It was one thing for her to touch her pussy, but she wasn't going to cum without pleasuring her ass right alongside it. As she worked herself towards her peak, she began to moan with ever-mounting pleasure, her eyelids growing heavier and heavier, her vision getting darker and darker. And just as she was about to hit that peak --

Karegav kissed her. Padmé was thrown for a serious loop by the intensity of the kiss. When she was with him, the only thing she had really kissed was his cock, and while she kissed that (and his ballsack) many times over the course of the night, his lips never closed on hers. She hadn't even fantasized about it. It was the strangest kiss she ever received, too, fantasy or not. Open-mouthed and desperate but without tongue, puffing breath into her. He broke the kiss over and over again, as though drawing back to take another breath that he could push into her lungs.

"--Huh?" Padmé gasped out as her eyes flew open, the fuzzy blanket wrapped around her falling open to reveal her breasts. "What?" she asked, her throat raspy. Blinking, she turned her head quickly from side to side to take in what had happened and who was around her. She was still in her home. The people were strangers, in a sense. She didn't know any of them, but she knew their uniforms.

"Easy now, ma'am. You're alright, but you need to rest," the man who knelt beside her said, reaching to quickly cover her back up. Padmé blinked a few more times as she stared at the firefighter, lips slightly parted as her mind tried to work through what had happened. She had been masturbating, fantasizing over Karegav kissing her, when -- it all clicked at once. Most of it, anyway.

Why was a firefighter giving her CPR? Hell, why didn't they have a droid for that sort of thing? She hadn't been fantasizing about Karegav kissing her at all. It was her mind playing tricks on her. "What happened?" she whispered, letting him guide her to lay back down, her eyes wide with confusion and fear as she gazed up at his face. Handsome. Dark-eyed, dark-haired, in his late thirties or maybe his early forties.

"Smoke got to you, ma'am. You really have to get a kit for this kind of thing, if you're not going to do it outside," he told her gently. "Cracking a window isn't enough."

"... oh," Padmé whispered, though she didn't feel any shame. She was far too fixated on his rugged mug for that. His nose might have been perfect and proud once, but it had clearly healed in a slightly crooked way after a bad break. Just like Karegav's had after he went a little too far and touched Padmé, earning himself a hard pop that almost ruined his stupidly handsome face. "Right."

To Padmé's credit, she didn't try to fuck him right then and there -- if only because her body felt too weak to muster up the energy for that sort of thing. She was right to be avoiding men she found attractive.

Two nights later, though? Two nights later, Padmé was on her knees at the foot of his bed, giving him the thanks he deserved for saving her life, nevermind the fact he said no thanks were necessary and that he was just doing his job. He was a red blooded male, unmarried and uncommitted, and there was no way he was going to turn down one of the most famous women in the galaxy insisting he let her thank him.

For how much his appearance resembled Karegav's, he didn't quite match up below the belt. That was fine to Padmé, though. Her imagination could fill in the blanks; it could change his taste just so and add to his length, his thickness. The only hint of shame that Padmé showed was her burning cheeks; she otherwise tackled his hardness like she wasn't Padmé at all, but the escort she had studied so hard to fake being. With her eyes closed, she wrapped her lips around one of his balls, humming a genuine enjoyment to herself as she suckled on his nut and ran her tongue all over its surface. She was sure it had its own unique shape and probably its own little pattern to its wrinkles, but Padmé didn't give a shit about it: she could remember the exact taste and tactile feeling of Karegav's scrotum on her tongue. So, too, did she remember the exact taste of his cock and how it tested her throat to swallow him.

The firefighter, who was decidedly not Karegav -- she knew his name but she didn't care about that either -- loved every moment of her blowjob, but Padmé knew he was enjoying this much more. How many of his peers could ever say that a celebrity had given their cock and balls a tongue bath, much less one of the most powerful and influential women in the galaxy? That enjoyment shone through in a far more tactile way, in how he clutched his fingers in Padmé's thick, long and loose hair. It shone in how he grunted, how he groaned. She hadn't bothered with her updo before coming to his apartment.

She hadn't bothered putting on anything under her coat. And though they were ostensibly supposed to be going out for dinner, she hadn't bothered to answer him when he asked where she wanted to go, just grabbing his wrist and dragging him to what was clearly his bedroom.

If she had any complaint about his performance, it would have been that he didn't do the things that Karegav would have. The things that Karegav had done to her. He didn't shove her face against his balls and give her no choice but to worship them, and he didn't use his leverage over her to fuck her face like some cheap, disposable toy. Padmé would have enjoyed the restraint and respect he showed her in any other lover. It annoyed her, but not to such a degree that she stopped what she was doing to tell him what he needed to do differently.

Communication was key in a relationship, but she wasn't looking for one of those. Padmé just wanted to get fucked, preferably by Karegav. She switched between his nuts and continued to pump his length with her dexterous digits, his whole cock slick with her saliva. Sooner than she would have liked, the firefighter reacted as any man inevitably would to all of her hard work. "I'm gonna cum," he warned her. Karegav wouldn't have given her a warning; he would have just kept on pounding into whichever of her holes he deigned to use. If he wanted to cum elsewhere, he would simply pull his cock out and put it wherever it needed to be, whether that was from her ass and straight into her mouth or pussy, or just in front of her face.

A few seconds later, the firefighter clutched her hair all the harder and let loose, her talented hand continuing to work him throughout the entirety of his orgasm, coaxing more and more of his cum out. It proved harder for Padmé to pretend his cumshot was anything like Karegav's. The thick white ropes went straight up in an arc, and most of them splattered back down on her and the floor, landing in places anyone but Karegav would have earned a tongue-lashing over. Having to clean cum out of her hair was unpleasant, but --

After he was done, Padmé released his cock and let his balls free of the wet, warm prison her mouth had been serving as. Of course he didn't have Karegav's endurance, but who possibly could? She quickly took his soft length back into her mouth and began to work on it, ignoring his soft little gasp in her quest to get him hard again. Once he was, well -- she couldn't very well ask him to fuck her, not with the adoring way he looked at her. It was nothing like the way Karegav would have looked at her.

But Padmé had come too far to just ignore her body's needs. She climbed into his lap and wasted no time in mounting him. His cock might not have matched up to Karegav's, but...

"W-wait," he groaned out, grabbing at her hips, but Padmé didn't. He might have expected her pussy, but he was ambushed with her ass instead, its hole sure to have a harder time telling the difference between the two men. She threw her head back and moaned as she sank her hips down, forcing him to stretch that well-trained yet miraculously tight hole wider and wider, her arms coming to wrap tight around his shoulders, squeezing him tight and crushing her soft chest against his far more sturdy one.

Padmé had always preferred her ass, but she usually had the decency to check with her lovers before springing it on them. The firefighter began to mumble something else at her, but she shut him up by really returning the favor he gave her a few days ago, locking her lips over his to shut him up. Sure, he resembled Karegav, but he didn't sound anything like him. As she sought his tongue with her own and began her anal ride in earnest, she wondered at what would happen if she grew so presumptive as to kiss Karegav.

Nothing good, Padmé was sure, which somehow made her want it all the more. Her thoughts drifted away from the man she was with to focus back on him, her brief master, her brief John. Of all the ways he took her, seeming careless to her pleasure or comfort yet somehow making her cum constantly and without fail. She should have been mortified by the time he shoved her up against the window and showed off how he was fucking a woman half his age to his wife's dinner party, but instead--

Her eyes slowly drifted open as she felt him cum inside her, his thick and sticky seed a strange feeling inside her asshole. Padmé paused for a moment, not to relish the moment but to sit in her disappointment at how quickly he came inside her ass. There really wasn't any substitute for the real deal, was there? That didn't stop her from getting him hard again, though.

It took her far longer than it should have to reach her orgasm, and when she finally did, he almost begged her mercy. Slowly, Padmé rolled off of him and spread out beside him on the bed, enjoying her afterglow even though it paled in comparison to what Karegav put her through. She stared at the ceiling for a long, long time as he slept, working through everything in her mind.

Padmé needed that monastery retreat desperately

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