Rey's sweat cooled in the chill of the interrogation room. Her struggles against the heavy clamps that encircled her wrists and ankles were helping to keep the shivers at bay. The uncontrollable shaking that racked her body a few minutes after her interview with the monstrous adolescent had thankfully dissipated, but it had left her on the edge of exhaustion.

“The cold keeps us sharp.”

Rey craned her head around towards the entrance. A tall stormtrooper stood at the threshold, gleaming in polished armor.

“And you are under-dressed for this climate,” said the soldier. “I am Phasma. Captain of the First Order.”

Rey studied Phasma as she approached the interrogation rack. She moved precisely, with intention, without a trace of subterfuge. “Rey.” She wasn't sure why she had been moved to reply.

Phasma took up a position to one side of Rey. She stood there, hands clasped behind her, her shining helm giving nothing away.

“You're not here to interrogate me,” said Rey.

“No,” replied Phasma, before lapsing into silence again. Her voice resonated through her helmet's concealed transmitter.

Rey studied the tall soldier. The longer she looked, the more became clear to her. She had a sense that Phasma was somehow honourable. Merciless, ruthless... yet she held fast to a code. Rey had nothing to fear from her. And yet, something was not right.

“You're troubled,” said Rey. Phasma gave no outward sign, but Rey knew that she was correct. “You came here for... insurance?”

“A guarantee,” replied Phasma.

Rey felt the world tilt suddenly. Her heart thrummed. Phasma had turned the rack to a nearly horizontal position in a stomach-churning swing. Rey began to feel scared. “Stop,” she said.

Phasma stepped back from the rack and put her hands behind her back. “As you wish.”

“Release me,” Rey commanded.

“No,” replied Phasma. “I am not some weak-minded thrall. And you are no Jedi.”

Rey considered this for a moment. “Then what are you offering?” Phasma looked very tall from down here.

“I am Phasma. I am not the First Order.”

Rey took a moment to decipher this. “You'll survive. Even if your side loses.”

“A guarantee,” Phasma repeated.

“You think I can offer you amnesty? Do you lack so much confidence?” Rey said. She set her lips in a line. “If you won't release me, you have nothing to offer.”

“I disagree.” Phasma spread her mailed hand and rested it on Rey's stomach.

Rey gasped before bringing herself under control. Phasma's hand was heavy, the palm far warmer and softer than the shining armour looked. Rey felt herself relax back onto the rack as the heat spread outwards from Phasma's hand.

“You have misunderstood, ” Phasma told Rey, looming over the rack. She let her hand slide over Rey's belly. “I do not seek amnesty. I offer a guarantee.”

Rey's stomach muscles twitched and spasmed as Phasma's hand roved. She tensed her arms and neck, forced her head back against the support. She took a deep breath through her nose before trusting herself to respond. “What's your offer?”

Phasma brought her other hand around to caress Rey's forehead, giving Rey a good view of the scuffed leather that protected her palm. She brushed Rey's hair out of her eyes and cradled the crown of her head. She stood like that for a moment.

Rey hadn't been touched like this since... she couldn't remember. Such simple acts of intimacy had been absent from her life for so long. Her muscles strained against the inescapable restraints. She yearned for... what?

“My guarantee is this,” said Phasma. “Should we meet on the field of battle, you will be unable to kill me. Instead, you will wonder what it would be like to be my prisoner. To kneel before me, in chains. Your curiosity will be your defeat.”

Rey calmed as she heard Phasma's words. “That's... arrogant,” she said confidently. Phasma removed her hands and Rey felt the loss of physical contact acutely. A tremor coursed through her body, a premonition of another wave of adrenaline-fuelled convulsions.

“It is not vanity,” said Phasma. “I will show you something now.”

There was a hissing sound and a clicking of latches as Phasma doffed part of her armour. She approached the rack, her naked crotch of a height with Rey's wide eyes.

Phasma reached between her legs with a polished gauntlet and spread her mons wide for Rey's benefit. A thatch of blonde curls bordered a bulging mound that concealed already-glistening folds. As Rey watched, a drop of fluid collected at the base of the crevice and dripped, leaving a long spittle-strand.

“You're deluded,” Rey said. “That's nothing I haven't seen before.” She turned her head away. She heard, rather than saw, Phasma's continued manipulations. Then the smell hit her. Bitter, powerful, it was dense and inescapable. Rey felt as if it was suffocating her. She gasped for breath.

As she inhaled deeply of Phasma's odour, she felt her body flush with warmth and relax. Saliva washed her mouth.

Phasma climbed onto the horizontal rack, her armoured knees finding purchase on the nasty-looking interrogation equipment to either side of Rey's head. Her boots hung down behind Rey's shoulders.

Rey looked up at the woman towering above her, shining in her armour except for her inner thighs and crotch, her drooling sex poised to fall. “No,” she said weakly, although she was far from certain.

“As you wish,” said Phasma. She sat still, unmoving, for long seconds as she watched Rey's face contort with confusion.

Rey had never felt such pure, wanton desire before. It wasn't merely the smell, or the sinister aura of controlled power that Phasma projected. It was the act of willing submission that tempted and aroused her. Here was a woman who would be worthy of that act of worship. Rey had spent so long deflecting the unwanted advances of two-bit hustlers and space-port thugs, she had never stopped to consider what it might be that she actually wanted.

To be held. To be cherished. To be protected.

A bead of thick fluid dripped from Phasma's lips and fell on Rey's chin. Her tongue darted out and lapped it up without hesitation. The taste contaminated her mouth immediately. It nearly made her gag with thirst.

Phasma saw it and let out a satisfied sigh. “Say it.”

Rey blinked hard. Phasma's mons was dark and swollen. Her long labia were also becoming engorged before Rey's eyes, spreading wide to reveal a quivering clit peering from under it's hood. Slow contractions made the entry to her vagina open and close, as if it were pumping out the glistening secretions that covered everything. “Yes,” she whispered.

Phasma began to lower herself slowly. She spread her labia wide with her fingertips. Rey's heart thundered and her breath quickened into little gasps of panic. Finally Phasma fitted herself to a perfect match with Rey's chin, lips and nose.

Phasma's wet heat smothered Rey. Her breath caught. She struggled with her bonds and then fell back, limp. Rey saw no way to breathe. She had to trust Phasma completely. She opened her mouth and let the velvet softness of Phasma's labia part her lips.

“Yes,” Phasma said, echoing Rey. She started to slide back and forth on Rey's face slowly, just far enough to allow Rey to sneak a breath through her nose at the apex of every stroke.

Now that oxygen was assured, Rey's tongue went into a frenzy. Her spasming throat demanded more and her tongue was trying to lap it all up. She turned her head from side to side slightly to better access the folds and crevices of Phasma's sex. Her nose caught on the Phasma's stiff clit each time.

Phasma's thighs trembled. She lifted slightly away from Rey. “Slower,” she instructed. “Longer strokes. Stiffen your tongue.”

Rey craned her neck forward, sticking her tongue out to try and reach Phasma. The warm leather of Phasma's palm cradled her forehead and forced her head back to rest on the rack. Phasma let her armoured fingers spread and tangle in Rey's hair before lowering herself to Rey's eager tongue again.

Rey tried to go slower, taking longer, more muscular licks, alternating left and right, inner and outer lips. She felt Phasma responding above her, letting more weight rest on her face with each stroke, pulling her hair back to make her chin stick up higher. Rey's arms and legs stiffened straight in their restraints as she felt Phasma take complete control of her.

“Better,” said Phasma. She stifled a moan of pleasure and her helmet's transmitter made a throaty crackle of it. “From the moment I saw you, I knew. Can you see?”

Rey wondered in a daze if she really gave off submissive signals, or if Phasma was just thinking wishfully. A woman like that... it must be difficult, in a military organisation. Desires like hers would not be easy to fulfill. But as the rocking of Phasma's hips hypnotised her, as her world contracted to a field of dark pink heat bordered by steel, she saw what Phasma had seen.

They would make quite a pair. Phasma, the silvered warrior, would break down the walls of the world with her bare hands. And Rey, her companion, would give her a reason to. She would stand in the lee of the towering soldier, sheltered from the storm. They would be more than lovers, they would be an unstoppable force.

Phasma stopped moving and settled her engorged sex over Rey's face again, trapping her. “You see,” she said. “Now focus your mind.”

Rey made an effort to hold her breath and still her body. She parted her lips again and started to lick, this time tracing the fringes of labia with the tip of her tongue.

Presently, Phasma began to rock back and forth again. “Good. Good.”

Rey worked her tongue without a thought in her head, lapping at the delicate, glistening fronds as they slid over her face. Aside from the occasional exhalation rendered into static by her transmitter, Phasma was silent. But gradually, the squawks of noise grew in frequency.

Then Phasma slid her huge hands behind Rey's head and pulled her tightly forward, mashing Rey's nose into firm contact with her clit. She grunted and her thighs quivered.

Rey couldn't breathe. She wrinkled and wriggled her nose against Phasma's clit. She licked up with her tongue, penetrating Phasma's muscular opening as deeply as she could. She forgot about the rest of her body, the restraints that bound her and held her immobile. Freedom was to be had in this moment. The freedom to make Phasma lose control, to bind them together. The freedom to fill the void inside her with this powerful, capable woman.

Phasma came. Rey felt her vaginal muscles contract, her thighs clench. A rush of fluid dribbled down Rey's chin. Phasma was nearly silent as she rode Rey's face through the waves of her pleasure. Rey was desperate to breathe, but just as depserate to bury herself in the safety of this woman's folds forever, to leave her responsibilities and foolhardy mission behind.

Rey gaped like a fish, her eyes wide, when Phasma finally released her. Phasma's sex came off her face with a smacking pop. Rey panted for a five breaths, ten, before slowing down. Phasma sat above her, still.

Then Phasma lowered herself towards Rey once more, and Rey was about to panic. She didn't think she could do that again so soon.

But Phasma was content to briefly smear her wettest parts on Rey's nose, before she sat up and threw her knee over to dismount.

Rey's eyes rolled and she shook her head to clear it. “That was...” she said.

“A promise fulfilled,” replied Phasma.

“If you think...” Rey began. But Phasma's hand was back at her belly, circling gently, and Rey's mind was alive with possibilities. She saw herself in a close-fitting black robe, dancing... no, fighting, while Phasma's cloak twirled beside her, enemies fell around them... the world spun again.

Phasma had flipped the rack back to it's near-vertical position. She inspected Rey's glistening chin. Rey stared back into the silvered helmet. Phasma turned on her heel.

“Wait!” said Rey. “Your face. Show me your face!” For a moment, Rey thought her plea would work. Phasma stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

“No.”