Home Fiction Adult Fiction Art Mail List Staff Links

Title: Days of Adjustment
Author: Isis (msthoth@yahoo.com)
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Darth Vader, O/C female named Anitra

Summary: The Dark Lord adjusts to life in the suit.

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns all of the IP to this work. I receive no monetary renumeriation of any kind for it.

Dedication: To Maia

Days of Adjustment

He began to awaken, but it was like swimming up from the bottom of an ocean. Gradually, he became conscious. There was the hissing of air vents dumping a large amount of pressurized, highly-oxygenated air compound into the room.

There were gentle, careful hands, working at the release of his helmet, removing it. The breathmask was carefully disconnected and then taken off, vocoder disconnected. He could feel someone bending over him, thought he caught a whiff of some kind of perfume, the scent of an exotic flower. A woman, then.

Vader's eyes opened. It took a moment for him to focus. The simulacrum apparatus didn't require him to actually use his eyes to see.

He hadn't seen her before. She was of medium height, had black hair that was pinned back from her face into a chignon, a few strands escaping here and there. Her eyes were dark, almost black, and her skin very white. It was a kind face, rather pretty, no longer young but not old either. She reminded him of his mother a little; the expression on her face was gentle and reflected patient endurance. The woman wore an Imperial service uniform.

"Lord Vader," she said softly, almost whispered.

"Yes," he said, puzzled.

"My name is Anitra. I am a doctor. I've come to see how you're doing."

Vader closed his eyes again. Had she come to give him more pain? He didn't want any more.

"Leave me," he dictated.

"I can't, my lord," she replied. "The Emperor ordered me here. He's concerned about you."

The Sith didn't reply. He didn't need or want Imperial solicitude. All he wanted was a little peace.

"Do you remember how you came to be here?" she asked him.

Why was this woman still there? He told her to go.

"No," he answered, a bit gruffly.

"You're here because we found you in our quarters, unconscious. You'd tried to remove your breathmask and helmet outside your hyperbaric chamber."

He remembered then. It was exactly thirty six hours after he'd regained consciousness at the Recon Center on Coruscant. After Mustafar.

"We were worried that perhaps your suit accommodation needed adjusting. That it wasn't working for you."

He sensed that she was trying not to say something. But he wasn't reading anything from her but concern. It was deep and genuine. That was unusual.

"Do you want to talk about how you're feeling now?" she inquired gently.

He didn't. But upon thinking about it, he wasn't sure he really wanted to be alone either. He was grateful for the company- un- amplified, not simulated. He just didn't know what to say to her.

She apparently didn't mind doing most of the talking.

"How old are you, my lord?" Anitra asked him, coming around the bed so she could see him better.

"Twenty four standard years. Almost twenty five."

"How long have you known the Emperor?" the doctor asked him, choosing her questions very carefully.

Vader signed. What was the purpose of all this? "Most of my life," he answered.

Anitra sighed a little. "I can't really claim to know him well at all. Which is why I was very surprised when I received the Imperial Order about an hour ago. "

"An order to do what?"

"To find out how we can make things easier for you…how to make life more bearable, at least until you have made your adjustment."

Gods, thought Vader, Palpatine has sent me a psychiatrist. What did a Sith need with a shrink, and how dare he suppose that the Dark Lord needed one?

The fury started to rise. His Master had insulted him, on top of everything else.

Vader sat up abruptly, startling Anitra, and glared at his visitor. She quailed, stepping back, away from him.

"I don't need a doctor, Anitra. I just need some sleep. Now, get out!"

The woman swallowed hard, once or twice, but stood her ground. The Dark Lord could feel her terror, which was very gratifying, but there was confusion too. Then, all of a sudden, she understood.

"Lord Vader," she said, backing away from him some more as he got off the bed and approached her, menacingly. "I'm not here to treat you. I am a doctor, yes, but I am also Lady Anitra, a Mistress of the Imperial Harem. One of the Emperor's concubines. I'm here as a woman…to try to help you…"

"Help me what?" Vader growled as he backed her against the wall of his infirmary room.

Anitra was very frightened, but looked up at him anyway. The sight of him was hard to bear, without his breathmask and helmet. She could see the ruins of the handsome young man he had been, in the scarred, tormented human being in front of her. She didn't pity him, any more than she pitied the Emperor. But she could empathize with him. And that was enough. He was so young. So very young. And there was this strong personal magnetism that he had about him. Young, vulnerable and troubled, but strong and vital. She would have to fight the temptation to personal involvement with this one.

"Help you understand that you are not alone. That you need not feel that your limitations are a prison from which you can never escape. That your life as a man is not over."

The Dark Lord was, to put it mildly, shocked.

"Do you really think such things concern me now?" he snapped back at her, eyes glaring an umber glow, like hot coals.

He was about five centimeters away from her. She had to look far up to see his face as he towered over her.

"My lord, if they don't now, they soon will. You have experienced massive changes in your life over a very short period of time. You are young. And despite everything, you are healthy enough to want and need…intimacy and a human touch. There is no reason why this should be denied you. That's why I'm here."

"Are you offering yourself to me?" Lord Vader asked, sounding a bit sarcastic. But the sarcasm hid another emotion. Anitra wasn't sure what it was.

"My lord," she replied patiently, falling back into her best medical professional manner, to steady her frayed nerves. "I know you're not ready for sexual contact now. I'm here to help you- in whatever area you want me to. The Emperor has about fifty mistresses in his household. About a third of them are drawn from professional ranks, various fields and areas of expertise,' here she smiled a little nervously. `We're not just objects of sexual gratification. We have other uses too."

Lord Vader was very perplexed. What was his Master up to, sending this woman to him, invading his privacy to such a degree? Anitra was not his type, although certainly not unattractive by any means. And she was so much older. What was Palpatine thinking??

"How old are you, Lady Anitra?" the Dark Lord asked, a bit rudely.

She blushed. The effect was rather pretty, though. "Forty-five, my lord. Quite old enough to be your mother. I could be a maternal figure for you, if that's what you wish. Or an older sister, if you prefer. Or just a friend that you could talk to if you felt like it. The Emperor would not question me about anything we say or do together—he understands my professional ethics better than that. Also, in this particular case, I don't think he would even ask what transpires between us, as long as it helps you.'

Here she paused, lips pursed, looking at him very directly.

`I can be anything you wish me to be, anything you need me to be. I'm not including or excluding anything in whatever relationship comes about between us. Sex is important, but I am certainly old enough to know that not everything is about sex, and there is much more to intimacy than intercourse."

"You say this, after telling me that my life as a man is not over, and that you're here to demonstrate this fact to me. And just how did you plan to prove that I can still find sexual satisfaction, if you aren't here to have sexual intercourse with me, Madame Concubine?" he was practically sneering at her. It was very unpleasant.

It made the doctor mad.

Anitra hadn't lived forty-five years, been an Imperial concubine for six, and a psychiatrist for close to twenty, to take this kind of crap from a twenty-four year-old twerp.

"There is not need for you to be so rude, my lord," she admonished. "You may be Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, but from where I'm standing you're a boorish, ill-mannered boy with an attitude problem and a lot of growing up to do. Go ahead and use your Dark Force powers on me, but don't imagine that it will make you any points with your Master. I'm not his favorite mistress, that's true, but I am the most senior Lady of his household, and valuable to him. I don't need to take any shit from you. My professional advice to you is that you don't give me any."

The Dark Lord was speechless. How dared she speak to him like that? Nobody had talked to him like this since Obi-Wan was his master.

Vader's visitor tossed her head back, brushed her dark hair back from her brow with one hand and attempted to look down her delicate nose at her much, much taller patient. She succeeded at it rather well. The Sith figured it was the result of many years of practice.

Now he really didn't know what to say. She'd made him feel like was ten years old again.

"My lord, I do want to be of help to you. I can respect that you are not very happy about this situation that your Master has put you in, but if it comes to that, neither am I.' Lady Anitra bit her lip, looked away from him. `In fact, I should recuse myself and inform the Emperor immediately. The only reason why I don't is that His Imperial Highness would just laugh at me and then tell me to get on with my work- no excuses, no recusal allowed."

"Recuse? What does that mean?" Vader asked, curious and feeling a little in over his head.

"It means to disqualify one's self from performing a professional function, because of a potential conflict of interest."

The Dark Lord frowned. "Why should you disqualify yourself from helping me?"

Anitra looked down at the floor. She was feeling very uncomfortable, but she could sense that her young patient had been lied to and manipulated a great deal in his life. Even if no one else did it to him, Palpatine was an expert at it. She knew that only too well. Vader had known the Emperor most of his young life. If the Dark Lord were ever to give her his trust, then she would have to be completely honest with him.

"I think I would have a very difficult time maintaining a professional distance from you. I don't think I can treat you without my feelings coloring my judgment."

Vader was in no mood for games. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that I am a psychiatrist, and a qualified sex therapist, and that involvement with my patients is not allowed."

"What makes you think I need a sex therapist?" The Sith managed not to ask the question in a nasty way.

"The Emperor reported to me that you were young and inexperienced. One of my tasks is to `give you a little polish,' was the way he put it."

Lord Darth Vader laughed. Uproariously. He was almost doubled over with it. The sound was so wonderful, so infectious, that Anitra couldn't help but smile. Laughter was like soft spring rain for the soul, she knew. It cleansed and it nurtured. If she could just come here and make him laugh for a while, on a regular basis, that would almost do the trick by itself.

It took quite a while for him to recover himself. He would periodically calm down, then look at her and start laughing all over again. Eventually he was able to stop.

"Lady Anitra," he said, still chuckling, "that has to be the funniest thing I've ever heard in my life.' All of a sudden he was just this young man again, injured but good-natured, a sort of sweetness about him.

She smiled, expectantly. "Tell me why this is so funny," she asked him.

The Dark Lord shook his head, smiling wryly. Where could he possibly start? And what could he say?

He looked over at her, still on the far side of the room, waiting for an answer. She was a doctor, a therapist, one of his Master's concubines. There was probably nothing she hadn't seen or heard before. But if he was going to answer her question, he would have to go into rather more detail about his sex life than he really wanted to. With anyone.

The smile on Vader's face vanished as suddenly as it came, replaced by something much more melancholy. Anitra saw it, and knew immediately what the problem was. It seemed Palpatine had lied to her about Lord Vader. What a surprise, she thought bitterly, knowing her sometime-lover. This whole thing was probably some kind of practical joke, being made at her expense. The Sith probably had a sexual history longer than her arm, that started when he was very young, far too young. And it was probably a bit…colorful.

Anitra stopped smiling too, and came over to stand nearer to her patient. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," she said. "The time we have together is meant to help you feel more comfortable with your life, not dig up painful memories that you're not ready to discuss. We have plenty of time to work out what you need and how I can help—or if I can help. But it would be good for me to know a little about you so we can both make some decisions about what we might work on. If I asked you some general questions, would you feel able to answer? You can decline to answer any of them you don't want to."

The Dark Lord thought that was fair enough. He still didn't know if he wanted or needed her help, but he wasn't adverse to the idea of having someone to consult from time to time. Her status as one of his Master's concubines guaranteed complete confidentiality and would not cause him any embarrassment. He didn't know how much she understood about the Dark Side, but perhaps it wasn't necessary for her to know. If she'd been with Palpatine for six years, she could probably teach him a thing or too, Vader thought a little glumly.

The Sith nodded at his doctor, and so Anitra's adventure began.

"Are you involved with anyone at this time?" she asked him.

Vader looked away from her. He already didn't like this line of questioning. Anitra saw this, and noted it. Obviously, there was a relationship that was now broken, painfully and recently.

"Don't answer that," she interjected. He looked at her gratefully. And didn't say anything more.

Anitra's next question had to be phrased very delicately. He might not answer this one either.

"Lord Vader, do you have a sexual preference?"

The Sith just looked at her like she was out of her mind to ask him something like that, and didn't say a word.

Interesting, she thought. Either she was to assume that his sexual preference should be considered evident or he'd had relations with both sexes and there was some guilt associated with this. She wondered idly if Palpatine had…

Anitra smiled grimly to herself. It was more than likely that he'd had relations with the Emperor. Palpatine was generally happy to fuck anything that moved, as long as he could gain or expand his power base from the activity. Her own relations with him weren't something she liked to talk about, or think about, or even remember. She hadn't slept with the Chancellor for at least two years. And been grateful not to have been asked to share the Imperial bed. She hated it when he touched her, tolerated it because she had to.

Probably the Dark Lord felt the same way.

Vader's shrink seemed to sigh a little. "Okay, don't answer that one either. Let's just say that I understand your reluctance to talk about it, that you are not alone in your experience, and leave it at that."

The Sith pounced. "Now what do you mean by that remark?"

Anitra's patience was starting to slip again. What was it about this young man that seemed to get under her layers of professionalism and clinical experience, and piss her off like this? She'd had difficult young patients before, and they hadn't managed to get to her like this one did. This one's attitude was awful.

Vader's blue eyes were getting an orange tinge again. They looked sort of purple.

"My lord, you know I'm a Lady of the Imperial harem. I was the first woman that then-Senator Palpatine asked to join his household. In spite of this, I can't claim to know him well, because we never spend very much time together, but I can say this much: sex is about power for the Emperor, not about intimacy. Sex is a tool, for him, and it's business, not pleasure. You didn't say so, but it's perfectly obvious to me that you and Palpatine have had sex together. He does it to everybody he wants to control. That's what I'm saying."

The Dark Lord's eyes took on a reddish cast, and his tone was snide. "What if I tell you that you're way off and you should speak for yourself?"

"What if I tell you to stop being such a foolish stupid boy, accept that you enjoy both sexes, and that you are more like your Imperial Master than you want to admit?"

"How dare you talk to me like that!" he roared, absolutely furious.

"How dare you shout at me like this when you know I'm right?" Anitra yelled back.

The Sith took a step towards her, then stopped himself. She was right. And he knew it.

Against his will, he was starting to like Lady Anitra of the Imperial harem. She had guts, this woman. And she was all woman, too. He rather liked that as well. In too many ways, Padme had been a girl. Had been. Had been.

Lord Vader shoved that memory aside and sat back down on his bed, sulking a little.

Lady Anitra softened a little, moved closer to her patient. "I'm sorry I lost my temper with you," she apologized. "It was unprofessional and uncalled-for."

The Dark Lord's lips curled ruefully. Then he did something he hardly ever did. "I'm sorry too. I know you're trying to help. You can continue with the questions, if you want."

The Imperial lady smiled at him. It was like sunshine, the Sith thought. The room got brighter when she did that.

"Have you been married, or in a committed relationship?" she inquired after a moment.

"Yes," he answered. But he found that he couldn't say anything more. It was just too difficult.

Okay, Anitra thought. Married, probably not any more. Maybe unhappily towards the end. A lot of pain there.

The shrink made a decision.

"I don't need a sexual history from you, my lord, at this juncture," she told her young patient. "I think I've heard enough to know where to start our work. But on the purely operational side, I would like to ask you if there is anything about your lifesuit that you would like to change, or any of your prostheses or other accommodations? You may not have anything in mind right now, but would you please give this matter some thought and then contact me? There are, most probably, things we can do to make you more comfortable, or increase convenience for you. The point of our working together is assist you in getting more of what you want and need. The resources of the Empire are at you command. But I'm sure you already know that."

She paused again, thinking. "Although I know it will be onerous for you right now, I would like to ask that you spend the next standard day in your suit and helmet apparatus. This will help us get started on our work more quickly. Do you agree?"

The Dark Lord nodded, a little regally, at his doctor. He was tired. Anitra sensed this, and knew that the session was over. It was time for her to go.

"Thank you for talking with me today, my lord," she said, feeling a little regretful. Who knew if or when Lord Vader would ever call her back? "In case you haven't had a chance to explore, let me tell you about this place. These quarters have four rooms that are pressurized for your comfort, so you can do without your lifesuit and breathmask, while you're recuperating here. There is an office with a communications bay off the door to your left, the `fresher, of course, just on the right and a fully-equipped physical therapy-rec room is beyond that. We've created a mockup of your meditation sphere, which is fully functional, but that you may wish to suggest improvements to while you're here. Any adjustments you make will be duplicated wherever you have that accommodation, throughout the fleet and all of your residences. If you want to contact me, there is a private channel already set up and ready. I am not far from here, if you need me for anything."

His Master had managed things very well. He nodded again. Anitra smiled tightly, and went out.

That, she thought, was probably that. She'd seen the last of the Lord of the Sith.

Later that night:

Lord Vader slept fitfully in his private rooms, and quality of it was poor.

Everything hurt. Absolutely everything. The pain was bad, but he knew about pain. Losing his arm at Geonosis hurt pretty bad, but eventually the pain went. He knew that, one day, his limbs wouldn't hurt anymore. They'd all been replaced, after all. Surely nothing worse could happen to him. His burned flesh hurt also, but it was healing well thanks to the bacta bandages and replacement skin. The pain of healing tissues he knew about.

What was torturing Vader now was that he knew he couldn't breath on his own. He was dependant on the cybernetics that pumped oxygen into his blood, in place of his ruined lungs. The sound of the respirator was beginning to madden him. He couldn't turn it off. He couldn't get away from it. It was with him every minute, in fact every 5.8 seconds, as the pressurized purified air cycled in, force-filling his lungs, for about 2.5 seconds, then the pressure dropped off, allowing him to exhale. In. Out. In. Out. Perfect machine regularity. He couldn't override it. He couldn't control it.

The breathmask and helmet that encased his head, and preserved the hyperbaric environment he now required to deliver the purified air to his lungs, was driving him mad. His hands kept reaching up to pull it off. He had to fight to keep them down. The helmet also prevented sound from being carried to his ears, and he required amplification to hear. No more could he know the whisper of someone he loved. Or who loved him. He longed to hear a voice now, anything but the endless cycling of the respirator and the soft whir of the servomotors in his mechanical limbs. When it was perfectly quiet, he fancied that he could hear them, in spite of the dampening effect of the lifesuit, with its armor and padding. They were maddening too.

It was perfectly quiet in his infirmary rooms. It was perfectly quiet, and exactly like being buried alive. Buried within the confines of his suit and breathmask, within the armor plating that both protected him and added 25 kilos to his body weight, within the hacked-up wreck and reconstructions that was his body. Buried forever. But Darth Vader would be forced to live in this mobile coffin, that was something close to living death.

He did now know this body. He did not understand it. Even the life energies that had once pulsated there were so far diminished that he could not remember being so drained and tired in his life. He tried to meditate, but he couldn't concentrate. He could only try to sleep. Fitfully. Poorly.

As he lay there, durasteel fists clenched to keep from tearing the cursed helmet and lifesuit off, the Dark Lord thought about his visitor. The shrink. The shrink that asked him all the rude questions, and then shouted him. The shrink that was concerned about liking him too much. The shrink that he sort of liked too, because she had courage and could respect him without fearing him. Maybe it wasn't a bad idea to summon her, and talk to her right now.

He heaved himself up off the bed, went over to his communications bay in his office, and opened his private channel to his psychiatrist. Who moonlighted as an Imperial concubine.

Anitra was also trying to sleep, but she was succeeding pretty well. When the call came through to her, she had nearly dropped off into dreamland. The beeping sound of the com panel woke her up with a start. Bleary-eyed and semi-conscious, she rolled out of bed, staggered to her office, and looked at the com channel indicator. It was coming from the Infirmary. Lord Vader, she was sure of it.

Frowning, concerned, she opened the channel. "Yes, my lord?" she asked respectfully. And waited for a reply.

She didn't get one. All she heard was a respirator, breathing in every 10 seconds or so. The Imperial lady guessed that her young patient was having trouble asking for help. Many of her patients did, from time to time. It must be bad, though, for the Dark Lord to be calling for help at one in the morning.

"I'll be right over, Lord Vader," Anitra promised. "Just give me five minutes." She didn't even dress first. She just grabbed her robe and slippers and hurried out the door to the private infirmary chambers of the Sith Lord.

Lady Anitra was just getting her right slipper on when she got to the airlock that separated the Dark Lord's chambers from the rest of the infirmary. She entered it, set the controls to pressurize, and waited, smoothing her hair as she did so. She had no idea what she looked like, but she doubted that her patient would care. The doctor was pretty sure she knew what the problem was, but it was never wise to make assumptions. Every patient was different. She'd spent most of her professional life treating soldiers that had been wounded, helping them to cope with their injuries and get on with their lives. Some of them had been wounded worse than Lord Vader had been. Treatments and rehabilitation methods had made great improvements, were getting better all the time, until the Clone Wars got underway. Since the Chancellor and then the Emperor decided to use clones and treated them much like disposable material, most research had stopped. Battlefield doctors and surgeons didn't make extraordinary efforts to save badly wounded troopers anymore. Anitra had been trying to convince her paramour that continuing to do work on reclaiming injured clones was still valuable, but hadn't been successful so far.

She was pretty sure that Palpatine had sent her to treat his Apprentice just to shut her up.

The airlock door opened, Anitra stepped in, and started searching the area for her patient. She found him, sitting in his office chair, in his lifesuit and helmet apparatus. She could tell he was thoroughly miserable by the way he was slumped in large black leather chair.

"How can I be of help, my lord?" the Imperial concubine asked him, respectfully.

Vader was silent for a moment longer, then he spoke. She hadn't heard him talk through the vocoder before, and was surprised at how deep the voice synthesizer made his natural sound. It didn't sound like him at all. She wondered if this was going to be an issue. The way a voice sounded to the human ear was very important, she knew. Being able to hear one's self speak in a normal way had always been critical in her patients that had speech problems. It was part of a human being's identity.

"You can help me take this mask off," he said.

Anitra walked over to where he sat, and began the process of disconnecting the helmet and the breathmask apparatus from the lifesuit. It was a complicated process. It had been created to be complicated, to discourage unnecessary tampering. She thought that this might be a design problem now. Surely nothing needs to be this difficult that would be part of a person's life routine.

"Well, I can see that we need to do some changes on this," she said aloud. "This is too difficult to do, even when someone else does it. I will take it up with the medical rehab teams in the morning. This is ridiculous."

She had gotten it disconnected by then. "Thank you," replied the Dark Lord. He didn't realize it until then, but he was actually glad she had come so quickly. He really was. He was also grateful that she'd picked up on how he was feeling so quickly. Perhaps she had a bit of Force sensitivity…

Carefully, Anitra lifted off the helmet and took off the breathmask, disconnected the vocoder. Putting them down on the desktop, she walked around the chair to face her young patient.

He looked terrible, like he hadn't slept at all in days. His eyes were sunken and darkly shadowed. His color was poor. She instantly felt sympathy for him. Bending down until she was resting on one knee, she looked up at the Sith.

"Do you want me to help you get the lifesuit and armor off as well?"

He nodded. Lady Anitra grabbed one of his boots and pulled gently but firmly, as if afraid to hurt him. They came off pretty easily. The other one did too. The metal leg prostheses looked…brutally functional. She wondered why synthflesh hadn't been used to cover them, and made a mental note to ask the rehab design teams about this in the morning also. She stood up.

"Would you rise, please, my lord?" she asked. He complied, wordlessly.

Reaching up, she took off the black tabards, walked around and removed the belt, then walked back around to take off the armor at his neck and shoulders. The air filtration apparatus had been built into his suit, so it wasn't removable separately. Anitra wondered if this made sense from a design perspective. One would have to undress completely to change a filter. She wasn't sure that made sense. She made a mental note to talk with the rehab design teams about this also. The codpiece had to come off next.

The Imperial concubine knelt and looked around for the catch releases. She couldn't see them in the dimly lit room, so she reached up one hand and felt around for them. In the process she found…something else.

The Sith was getting an erection.

Anitra started to take her hand away when a black gloved hand reached down and covered hers. "It's over here," Lord Vader said gently, moving her hand over to the right side of his codpiece and finding the release for her. The codpiece came off. It was fairly heavy. In the gloom of her young patient's office, the doctor blushed.

So his doctor was a little shy, thought the Dark Lord. He smiled, knowing she couldn't see it.

The armor removed, Lady Anitra started to look around for where to begin taking the suit off. There seemed to be no easy way of identifying how the lifesuit came on and off. After probably two whole minutes of looking, including walking completely around her patient and peering at the suit, she gave up. "How does this thing come off?" she asked, plainly irritated.

In the dark, the Sith chuckled. "Like this," he replied, taking one of her hands and moving it to his waist. A hidden zipper. "Oh," the Imperial lady remarked, and taking the flange, unzipped it. It went all the way around his waist. The lifesuit was in two pieces, an upper and a lower garment. Well, that at least made sense, thought Anitra. Finally, one good thing about this whole setup.

Once she had it unzipped, she began to peel off the lower half. Then she made another discovery.

Lord Vader wasn't wearing anything under the suit. The lining was designed to wick moisture away from his body, and a system of tiny capillary-like vessels built into the suit moved coolant around his body, so that his body was kept cool and dry at a constant comfortable temperature.

That, Anitra decided, was genius. When she put the lower half of the suit down on the desk, she turned back to her patient.

Damn, she thought. Even with healing burns, post-operative scars and terrible wounds, he was beautiful. Really beautiful.

"Thank you," the Dark Lord said aloud.

His doctor blushed again. He'd read her thoughts. She'd forgotten that Sith could do that easily.

Lord Vader reached up to the middle of his chest, just below the chest plate, and found the zipper that separated the upper part of the suit into two pieces. It came off like an ordinary jacket, and very easily. The filter system was very flat and lightweight, and when he handed the top part of his suit to Anitra, she looked it over and felt around it, to see if she could spot any areas that needed improvement. There was built-in telemetry over the chest that fed into the chest plate computer monitors. The chest plate wasn't very heavy at all, despite looking like another piece of armor. The belt box devices used a wireless nanotechnology to connect to the chest computer, so no cumbersome or over-heatable wiring. Not looking at him, deliberately, the Imperial concubine shrugged and laid it down on the desktop. "I'm pleased with the lifesuit design. It seems pretty good to me," she remarked. "What do you think?"

"Look at me," Vader ordered her. Reluctantly, Anitra turned her head. He'd taken his gloves off and tossed them on the desk as well, and so the Dark Lord was completely naked. Except for the neckband, which was still around his neck.

Gods, thought the Imperial concubine, Lady Anitra of Coruscant. Gods have mercy.

The arm prostheses didn't have synthflesh either. The hands were metallic, obviously very sophisticated. The chest had a long scar right down the middle of it, almost the whole length of it, where the pulmonary implants had been set inside the chest cavity. It was healing well. Eventually, the scar would disappear. The burns were healing well also. Those bacta bandages were wonderful things.

Lord Vader had a beautifully developed chest. She found that she really wanted to touch it. Really wanted to touch it badly.

"You can if you want to," the Sith whispered softly, reading her thoughts again. Against her will and her best professional judgement, her hand crept up and laid itself on his left breast. Mesmerized, she caressed it a little, back and forth. His skin was fairly smooth. The nipple on his breast looked…delicious.

Anitra closed her eyes and moved her hand away. The Dark Lord caught it in one of his metal ones and put it back on his chest.

"No one has touched me in many days, my lady," he told her quietly. "Please don't stop."

Vader bent his head until it was very close to her cheek. In a moment those full red lips would kiss her there.

"My lord," his doctor said, trying to draw away from him, "you're not ready for this yet."

His full lips did caress her cheek then, giving her a small tender kiss. "What makes you say that?" he asked, bringing his other hand around her waist, pulling her closer.

"You're tired, you're still convalescing. This should wait at least until you've had some good quality sleep." The Dark Lord was trying to move his lips over to her mouth, but she'd turned her head away.

Her young patient had her very close to him, so close she could feel his engorged member through the thin material of her nightclothes. It had been so long since she'd been touched by a man. She knew she shouldn't yet, it wasn't fair to him…

The Sith put his hand under her chin and moved her face until his lips were right over hers. "Alright, my lady Anitra, we will put this off on one condition: you will kiss me good night."

The command, delivered in a soft voice, was nevertheless a direct order. Anitra knew one when she heard it. There wasn't going to be any argument here. At least he'd agreed that he should get some sleep tonight.

"Very well," she replied. Hardly had the words come out when the Dark Lord's lips came down on hers and they kissed. At first it was softly, gently. Then Vader moaned and deepened his kiss, his tongue entering her mouth. She eagerly opened her mouth wider, allowing him to caress her tongue.

One of his metal hands grasped one of her small soft human ones and moved it to grasp his penis. Anitra gasped. It was long, engorged and firm. It felt wonderful. Her hand ran over it, caressing the glans, stroking the shaft. She shuddered, groaned beneath his kiss. The Sith trembled also; no one's flesh had touched him there, not even his own. He had no idea how much he missed his own touch…

Instantly he let her go. She was right; it was too much, too soon.

Anitra looked into the Dark Lord's face. He looked so terribly tired, and deeply hurt, and there was so much pain in his blue eyes. She raised one hand to his cheek, just the back of it, caressed it gently.

"Do you want me to stay with you, my lord?" she asked tenderly. He looked so hurt, and so very young. "I could sleep in your office chair, in your bedroom, if you want."

Vader looked at his doctor's eyes. They were full of gentle compassion. It was a comfort to have her here, but he knew that he wouldn't sleep with her in the same room. And he did need the rest.

"No," the Dark Lord replied, "but thank you. Please come to me again tomorrow. We can talk more then."

"Do you want something to help you sleep?"

The Sith considered. He was tired enough to sleep without a drug, he thought.

"I don't think so," he said.

Lady Anitra nodded, tied her robe around her more tightly. "Very well. Do call if you change your mind. And I will be available for you tomorrow any time you're ready."

"Good night then," Lord Vader told his shrink.

"Good night, my lord," said the Imperial concubine.

And then she went out of the Dark Lord's infirmary chambers and went back to bed.

Anitra laid in her bed but couldn't get back to sleep. She couldn't stop thinking of her Sith patient. She'd let him kiss her, she caressed his body, she'd behaved inappropriately, unprofessionally, unethically. She couldn't stop thinking of how her hand ran over his beautiful chest. How she caressed his penis, how silky it was, how exquisitely shaped. How much she wanted to touch it a lot more. With her lips. With her hands. With other parts of her. How much she wanted it to touch her.

Anitra knew it was natural for her to want sexual contact. Her vocation did not forbid her to acknowledge beauty, admiration and desire. She'd treated beautiful young men before, but they hadn't affected her like this.

Gods, this was awful!!

She needed to call Palpatine and recuse herself. It was the only honorable thing to do. She'd call the Emperor in the morning, tell him that she couldn't treat his Apprentice, and that he needed to find another psychiatrist for him. Preferable of a different species. Or at the very least an old man, past his prime, whom the Sith would not be interested in sexually.

Then she started thinking about what if Palpatine sent in some beautiful young man in to treat Lord Vader….

Anitra sat bolt upright, shocked at how incensed this thought made her feel. Incensed and incredibly jealous…and also that she wouldn't mind if she got to watch….

Okay. This had gone far enough. Way too far, in fact. She was going to have to lay it all out for His Imperial Highness and let him decide. She just hoped he wouldn't decide that it had been too long since he's seen her and that he needed to find out personally what her issue was. And if she needed to get laid that badly, then he should clear his schedule for a couple of hours and do his duty.

The Imperial concubine flopped back down on the bed and pulled the covers over her head. Gods, that was an appalling prospect.

But then she reconsidered: how did she know that maybe that wasn't the main problem with her, and that she just needed a little sexual release? If she didn't need it so badly, maybe the Sith wouldn't be affecting her this way. Maybe what she should really do is arrange for a little…infidelity…within the Imperial household.

She'd done it before. Most of the Imperial concubines did. Palpatine had a lot of Ladies in his household, and apparently not much time to service them anymore. Sometimes they did it with each other. Anitra didn't really enjoy that, but she also knew that the Emperor had access to certain young men from time to time. They weren't exactly `kept', not exactly, but it was understood that they, from time to time….

The shrink and sex therapist knew she had to be losing her mind. She should just get a hold of herself and stop being a stupid little girl. She was a woman, a mature woman and she would deal with her problems in a professional, ethical and responsible manner. She was going to recuse herself from treating the Dark Lord as his psychiatrist and that was all there was to it. When, and if, he required her services as a sex therapist, she would consider that as a separate issue. If his sexual history was as long and colorful as it seemed to be, he most probably wouldn't need any help in that department. He could probably give her lessons, more likely.

Anitra's whole body tingled at the thought of that.

This was hopeless. The Imperial Lady knew she wasn't going to sleep without help. So she got up, took a small portion of a mild sedative, and went back to bed.

Eventually, she passed out. From exhaustion more than anything.

The Sith wasn't sleeping either, and he had no idea why. Lord Vader was exhausted to death, but he still couldn't rest. He tossed and turned fitfully in his bed, which was certainly soft and inviting enough, but couldn't get comfortable. The pain he was in wasn't bad enough to keep him awake- he'd slept through worse- so what was the problem?

He knew what the problem was. Her name was Lady Anitra of Coruscant, of the Imperial Harem. His shrink and sex therapist. The one whose lips he thought about constantly, whose touch brought him such intense pleasure. He wanted to feel her hands and her mouth all over his body, especially his cock. Especially there. Her lips, surrounding his penis, sucking him…his prick, inside her hot wet sex as he fucked her, while she was on her back, on the soft bed he now lay in…or maybe he would take her from behind…

Vader got up and left his bed. This was intolerable.

He was so tired, he wasn't rational and he knew it. But he didn't care.

The Dark Lord knew he could call her, and she would come. He could ask her for a sleeping drug, and then when she got there…

No. He knew that he probably couldn't with her, not yet. He put both hands up to his head, drawing his metal fingers down over his face. His sense of touch wasn't really different from the flesh that had been his. No, it really wasn't. They felt like his hands to him, but he knew that they didn't feel like human hands to another person. He hadn't used them to touch another, in that way. He barely even touched himself. He didn't know what to expect, or how it would affect his sex life.

His sex life. Gods. Anitra had been right about him wanting to have his needs met. She'd been right about everything so far. But he knew he hadn't accepted his body, didn't know how to make peace with the changes that had been made to it. Didn't know how he would react to her making love to him, as he was now- never mind how she would feel about him touching her. Really touching her. Padme would have run from him, if she could see him now, the Sith mused. She wouldn't have touched him at all. She would have run screaming from the room, and never come back again. He just knew it.

Padme had betrayed and rejected him. Lord Vader couldn't stand to be rejected by a lover a second time, not now.

Maybe his shrink had been wiser than he in wishing to…what was the word? Recuse?…herself from treating him. He knew she wanted him, would have a hard time staying professional with him. She wanted to help him, and the Dark Lord finally realized and accepted that he could use the help. At least for a while.

Could he manage not to touch her again? Not dream of her? Not want her? He supposed he had to try. If he could not, then he should ask his Master for another shrink. And then, when he felt better, arrange for Lady Anitra to be his sex therapist.

The Sith smiled to himself. Yes, that would be an excellent arrangement. She wanted to know what was so funny about him being described as inexperienced. He could show her why that was so amusing. Yes, indeed. She could give him some therapeutic sex. He could give her some too. Some sexual therapy she wouldn't soon forget.

Lord Vader would contact his Master in the morning, and ask that Lady Anitra be removed from his case as his psychiatrist. And that she be retained as his therapist. His special, sexual rehabilitative therapist The Sith smiled. Broadly. And gave up the idea of trying to sleep.

Palpatine was first perplexed, then greatly amused by the communications he'd received this morning- first from his most senior Concubine and then from his new Apprentice. Lady Anitra wanted to be recused from Vader's case. Lord Vader wanted her off his case too. Both of them were willing to accept a client- therapist relationship for sex therapy, and asked to begin that as soon as the new shrink thought the Dark Lord was ready for it.

The Emperor laughed out loud. Well, well. So they wanted to fuck each other. One wanted professional impunity. The other wanted zero risk of rejection. He couldn't figure out why he should be in the middle of all this angst, but it could be fun to watch. Force knew the Sith Master hadn't had much recently. Getting the Republic properly organized as an Empire, re-building a Star Fleet military force to crush the Rebels and fretting over his Apprentice's injuries and uncertain health hadn't given him any time for fun. His own Master, Darth Plagueis, always told him to enjoy his work whenever he could.

It was high time he started taking that very wise advice.

He would assign a new shrink to Lord Vader. He knew just the one that would be perfect for the job. Then he would send for Anitra, and relieve her sexual frustration. Or make it worse. Depending on how one wanted to look at it. Next he would intractably insist that Vader begin his sexual rehabilitation work immediately with Anitra, in close collaboration with the new shrink, and then order cameras in the Infirmary where Vader's quarters were. The man who had been Anakin Skywalker, now Lord Darth Vader, was a Sith Apprentice. He'd been formally initiated into the Sith Order. He'd paid in blood for the privilege of using the superior power of the Dark Side. It was time that he began to find out exactly what it meant to be a Sith. How to cultivate and use different sources of passion, both in others and within himself. How to redefine himself, to understand his new identity, and to know the meaning of real power. How to create opportunities for growth and exploitation from the tools and beings around him. And who his Master was.

It was time for instruction to begin.

The handsomest man in Star Fleet military service, it was generally agreed, was a Major named Jes Tariq. And he wasn't happy at his present posting.

He'd become a surgeon so he could save the lives of the sick and injured. He'd continued his studies in psychology so that he might better treat all those who came to him for healing. The scalpel could only do so much; easing mental and emotional pain and treating the traumatized mind was often key to effective recovery. He specialized in difficult rehab cases because working to relieve the suffering of other beings was all he ever wanted to do.

So why was he at an administrative post on Coruscant, supervising the treatment of depressed bureaucrats, their oversexed wives or mistresses, and career military officers with terminal ambition?

Jes was almost ready to resign his commission and go set up a clinic on the Outer Rim when he received a call from the Imperial Liaison Office. It seemed that the Emperor himself had a job for him. A very special job, requiring his unique skills and the discretion for which he'd become known in the upper echelons of power.

This new job was treating a rehabilitation patient named Lord Darth Vader. The Emperor's protégé.

It looked like it might be a real challenge, for a change.

His orders were that he be relieved of his post on Coruscant immediately, and transfer to a new ship, the Avenger, where his patient was recovering. Dr. Tariq received his new patient's file by special courier, within an hour of his transfer orders being transmitted. He read it on the way to his post.

Vader had been terribly injured in battle; limb replacements, organ damage, burns on much of his body. Jes had treated worse in his career, but this was a unique case. By direct order of the Emperor, Vader's recovery had to be complete and total in every way. No limitations were acceptable in his ability to perform as a warrior and a military commander. The doctor wasn't sure that was even possible, given the severity of the injuries, but he was now obligated to try. Actually, do better than `try.'

His new patient was young, and that was a quality in his favor. His patients often were, but this one had had his injuries inflicted in a particularly traumatic way. He felt great empathy for Lord Vader, and knew that his suffering must be immense right now. He carefully re-read the file in the last few minutes before the Imperial shuttle docked, especially the latest notes. The most recent entries were dated only the previous day. The attending psychiatrist wrote that Lord Vader was having some problems with his prosthetic accommodations, that he was having difficultly sleeping, had high levels of hostility and anxiety, and was having trouble adapting to his body alterations. Dr. Tariq saw that it was pretty standard stuff, post-trauma stress, body image, pain management and related issues. The physician had left her initials on the last entries. A.A. Jes knew who it probably was: Anitra Avendor.

He knew her by reputation, of course. She was one of the best in the both the physical and psychological rehab field, a research pioneer in the treatment of battlefield injuries. Jes was puzzled; he wondered why she was taken off the case. Perhaps Anitra hadn't managed to establish a workable rapport with Lord Vader. It happened from time to time to everyone. In work like theirs, it was important that there be a deep level of trust and confidence. Gender and species lines occasionally prevented this. Dr. Tariq had never met Dr. Avendor, but according to the chart notes, she was still listed as a consulting therapist for rehabilitation. Perhaps he would get a chance to work with her after all. She was a very fine doctor, and it pleased him to have such an eminent colleague to consult with on this difficult case.

His shuttle finished docking and the lieutenant who brought him to it on Coruscant also escorted him to his first meeting with his patient. Dr. Tariq was very eager to meet him. He also hoped to meet with Dr. Avendor today as well, to discuss the changes she recommended in the Dark Lord's accommodations.

Jes and his escort reached the doors of the Infirmary. They opened, and the officers took a series of corridors to a separate wing. This wing entrance had a security gate and a pressurized airlock. The new Imperial psychiatrist stepped into it alone and activated the controls. Then the lieutenant left him and Tariq was alone.

When the airlock had completed its pressurization cycle, Jes stepped through the inner door and began to cautiously walk through the private rooms of Lord Vader. The lights were very dim, and the shrink wondered why that was necessary. He didn't see anything in the chart about this being a requirement because of some optic nerve or other ocular damage. Then he heard someone moving around in an adjoining room.

"Lord Vader?" Tariq called.

"In here," a voice answered. It sounded young and strong.

Pulling his tunic down and running a hand through his hair, Jes followed the sound to the room next door, and as he rounded the corner, he saw his patient for the first time.

Lady Anitra was pleased that Palpatine acquiesced so quickly to her request to recuse herself from Lord Vader's case. She wasn't expecting her audience with him to go as well as it did, and she was about to end the communication when the Emperor indicated that he had more to say to her.

Upon reflection later, she might have known that when His Imperial Highness was being agreeable, it was time to be wary.

"My dear, how long has it been since we spent any time together?" Palpatine asked her pleasantly.

She swallowed hard. The answer to that question had to be carefully crafted. "I'm not sure, my lord," Anitra replied. She really didn't know, because she preferred not to remember.

"Then it's been too long, my lady," the Emperor observed, in his most charming manner. He smiled at her holographically. She immediately wanted to vomit.

"We must rectify this situation at once. Please arrange with my Chamberlain to come to me this evening."

Anitra bowed her head in agreement, and the holographic image of the Emperor vanished.

She contacted the Pharmacy at the Infirmary before she contacted the Imperial Chamberlain to book the evening appointment The concubine would need some strong drugs to get though tonight's encounter with the Sith Emperor of the Galaxy. Anitra closed her eyes and sighed, thinking of Lord Vader. Maybe if she shut her eyes then and thought of her erstwhile patient, her time with Palpatine might pass a bit more pleasantly.

But she knew that was impossible. Her lover would find out, if she did that. He could read thoughts. He knew her well, had shared her bed off and on (mostly off) for the last six years. Sex was always about power for him. He always knew when she had to resort to a sexual fantasy in order not to shrink from his touch. Palpatine liked to torment her about it. Afterwards.

She would have liked to ask him how he enjoyed fucking his Apprentice, but then she would have to listen when he described it, and talk about how it felt for him. She wasn't sure she could stand that.

Maybe it was time to pick up the sedative now, and not wait until later in the day.

Lord Vader was sitting in his office chair when Tariq came into the room. He wasn't wearing the helmet and breathmask apparatus that Dr. Avendor mentioned was giving him trouble, and he wasn't wearing the lifesuit either. He was simply dressed in a long thick black robe that covered him down to his durasteel feet, and all you could see of his body was his durasteel hands, and part of his chest. The chest had a long vertical scar down the middle of it.

His head and face had some healing scars on it too. The burns had scared his scalp, so there was no hair on it to speak of. He was pale, looked exhausted. His eyes were large, long-lashed and probably blue, but Jes couldn't be sure. It was too dark to see. There was an old scar, cut vertically, over one eyebrow, not a result of his most recent battle. Lord Vader's lips were full and sensual, looked reddish in color. The face still handsome in spite of the healing burns and scars. It looked hard, though, and the shrink could tell that there was a lot of pain behind it. A lot of pain.

While Dr. Tariq looked at his patient, his patient examined his doctor. And was not pleased.

His new shrink was male, a little younger than Anitra, and possibly the most handsome man Vader had ever seen. Tariq was almost as tall as he was. He had a medium build with a well-developed musculature, long dark hair to his shoulders, and the face of god. His eyes were large, thick-lashed and dark, his skin pale brown and perfect, and Lord Vader was going to make sure that Anitra never saw this man at all while he was posted to the Avenger. Vader would order him quartered on the other side of the ship if he had to.

His Master had sent him a message, detailing the background and qualifications of this new shrink, and let him know that he'd better work with Tariq and make the best of it. There was simply no one better qualified than the two doctors he already had. Palpatine was a sadistic bastard, Vader thought to himself. He'd sent him one Imperial Lady Concubine that he couldn't have, and a gorgeous- looking male doctor who would remind him all the time that the Sith Apprentice was damaged goods.

Dr. Jes Tariq's eyes were looking at his young patient with compassion and gentleness. Lord Vader eyed him with suspicion. For a moment. Then he made a decision.

He wasn't going to have one of them. He was going to have both of them. He was a Lord of the Sith and was entitled to take whatever he wanted. If sex was about power for a Sith, then power he would have. The sex was incidental, a means to an end, but a pleasant one. He would enjoy that part too.

Sex. Power. Passion. Fear. Control. Pain. Freedom.

The Dark Lord gave his doctor a broad smile.

Lady Anitra prepared grimly for her appointment with the Emperor. It was hopeless, though. It was impossible to prepare adequately for something this potentially vile. She took off her uniform and put on a long low-cut black dress that was trimmed in red satin. And then she took out the black velvet case that contained the symbols of her servitude to her lord.

As was customary in most places in the Galaxy, when a concubine joined the household of a potentate, she was given a gift by her new lord. Anitra had received one also. Palpatine always wanted her to wear it whenever she had to spend time with him, which meant that she wore it rarely. The gift wasn't something that she would wear just anytime or anyplace, because it happened to be worth not just a planetary ruler's ransom, but an entire solar system's purchase: red diamonds. Palpatine had given her red diamonds set in a necklace, brooch, earrings, bracelet and a ring. 200 carats of the rarest gems in the galaxy. More than enough ostentation for anybody, even a Galactic Emperor.

Red diamonds were so valuable because they didn't exist naturally in this Galaxy. They had to be brought in from outside, and no one was sure what planet they came from. No one was even sure which Galaxy they came from either. The set was worth well over 150 million in credit. In real terms, though, they were priceless.

Anitra Avendor had been the first lady to join Palpatine's household. He'd tried for four years to persuade her to accept him before he finally succeeded. It was the gems that did the trick, or so he thought. The jewels had been seized years ago, from a petty princeling in the Outer Rim by Darth Maul. Darth Maul, the Sith she hated from the depths of her soul. Darth Maul, her lord's former Apprentice who'd been dead for many years now but whom she still despised with an intensity that was impressive—especially for a mental health professional.

Palpatine knew of Anitra's hatred of his Apprentice. It was the enormous, bottomless black intensity of it that first attracted him to her in a serious way. He couldn't give his lady Maul's head on a platter, even if he was so inclined, but he could give her Maul's
most prized possession.

The Senator had certainly seemed desperate to win Anitra's approval. For political reasons, Palpatine needed a wife. Or at least a Lady that was bound to him, at his side. Anitra's credentials made her a good candidate, an impressive trophy. She'd refused to marry him repeatedly, mostly out of suspicion and a reluctance to bind herself to this man she didn't understand and didn't love. Eventually he made a bargain with her: if she would enter his household as his concubine, he would keep her beautifully, finance her research, support her projects, and not demand that she share his bed. After ten years, she would be free to leave him, if she wanted. It didn't seem like a bad deal at the time. The only thing that bothered her was the fact that he was being extremely generous to her and she didn't know why. Six years into her contract, she still didn't know why.

What she didn't know was that the amazingly strong hatred she nursed for Maul stirred the Sith Master on a personal level. Hate that strong was extremely rare. And he knew Anitra could never love him. She didn't want any level of emotional commitment from him. She was as close to an ideal woman as he knew he would ever get. He had to have her.

The Imperial concubine was almost finished dressing. Her hair was firmly pinned up, so that the diamonds hanging from her ears would be clearly visible. The dress was décolleté so that the large pendant could be shown off against her white skin. Putting on the brooch, the bracelet and the ring, she examined herself in her bedroom mirror. She looked like an Empress. Thank the Force she'd had the foresight not to marry Palpatine. Then she'd be tied to him for the rest of her life. Four more years, and then she could be free.

It was almost time to go. Anitra took another sedative, and sent for her military escort. In her pocket was another drug, which was so strong it would make a painful lingering death seem almost pleasant. Pharmacology was a wonderful thing, she reflected.

When the young lieutenant came to her door with his security detail, she smiled at him and he gave her a stiff military bow. When he saw the jewels on this woman, he understood why she asked for the extra security. He was amazed that she'd managed to keep their existence aboard ship a secret. Every thief in the galaxy would be after them, if word got out. Then they went to the shuttle bay, to pick up their transport to the Imperial Palace.

About an hour and a half later, Anitra stood in front of the double doors to the Emperor's private chambers. She smoothed her gown, adjusted her jewels, and patted her hair. Good, all the pins were still there. The sedatives had taken their full effect. She felt as relaxed as she could feel, under the circumstances. It was time for her last medication. Reaching into her pocket, she took out a small syringe. Pushing her sleeve up past her elbow and taking off the needle cap, she clenched her fist a few times and held it tight, until a vein became visible. She held up the needle in her other hand, checked for air bubbles and pushed the plunger down just a little, so that it was primed. This drug would counteract some of the sedatives' effect, make her feel so euphoric for several hours that she wouldn't care who did what to her. It was, of course, highly illegal, but Anitra had a small stash. Just for such occasions as this. Acquired for research purposes, of course.

Suddenly the door opened and a dead-looking white hand reached out and grabbed the syringe.

"Oh no, you don't," said Palpatine. "Those sedatives were quite enough."

The Emperor's other hand gripped her wrist and hauled her into his chambers. The door closed behind her and locked itself.

Anitra just stood there in her lord's bedroom, blinking her eyes, mouth hanging open, in complete stupefaction.

Palpatine appeared to her as he had been when he was Senator Palpatine of Naboo, when they first met. She wondered if she was having a reaction to one of the drugs, but she didn't think so. Hallucinations weren't one of the side effects. Anitra rarely watched the holonet news, it was true, and she hadn't seen him in person for quite some time, but she was sure he didn't look like this anymore.

His hair wasn't completely gray yet. It was brushed back from his high forehead in gentle waves. His blue-gray eyes were clear and large, and they looked at her angrily. She'd forgotten how distinguished-looking he had been. He wasn't wearing his imperial robes, but only a simple black robe of some kind that covered him from neck to ankle. She tried to think of something to say, but she still couldn't come up with anything.

"Is the very thought of having to tolerate my touch so distressing that you have to resort to drugging yourself in order to stand it?" The Emperor sounded rather hurt as well as angry.

Anitra was just relaxed enough to smirk at the idea that the Sith could have wounded feelings, and she didn't reply. She thought the question was too stupid to deserve a response. She was also wondering to herself why she hadn't used meds earlier in their relationship. It would have made many episodes between them much pleasanter to remember.

"I see we have a serious problem," his Imperial Highness continued sternly, looking her up and down like a she was a naughty child. `What was all the this damn fuss about?' Anitra thought, still not saying anything out loud. What did he care if she was feeling no pain? It wasn't as if he was worried about her well-being.

Palpatine read her thoughts, and he actually did feel some distress. He had a certain amount of vanity about his prowess as a lover, and Anitra had wounded his pride. "I have left you alone too long," he went on in the same chastising tone. "You have this idea in your mind that I'm repulsive and vile, that you couldn't possibly tolerate my attentions without anesthesia. I'm presuming that this is because I am a Sith Master, had been Maul's Master, and you didn't know it when you met me. Am I correct?"

The Imperial concubine smiled at him absently. Who gave a damn what he was? He was repulsive now regardless of whether or not he was also a Sith Master. And Maul was long dead, moldering in hell. Ah well, let him rave on. It was kind of fun watching Palaptine get himself into a froth about something besides politics. It was all silly theatrical fuss and ruffled feathers about his ego anyway. He'd be back to his spiteful self as soon as he was done being self-righteous.

The Emperor put the syringe down on a nearby table and looked his concubine over. He hadn't seen her in probably two years. He'd forgotten how very pretty she was. And how much he'd wanted her, and the extraordinary lengths he'd gone to, to get her into his household and into his bed. It truly bothered him that she found him so distasteful now. All of his concubines found him distasteful, it was true, but he didn't consider that he had a bond with any of them. Except this one. This first one.

"Anitra, are you listening to me?"

"Yes, my lord," she replied, finally. Those sedatives were terrific. She didn't care about anything right now.

Palpatine sighed in frustration. He really did it awfully well, his concubine thought. "It's hopeless to talk to you," he said. "You're too drugged."

Fabulous, thought the doctor. Maybe he will end this whole appointment and let her go back to her ship. "As you say, Your Imperial Highness. May I go now?"

"No," he refused flatly. "No, you're not going anywhere. I'm going to keep you here until the drugs wear off. We have a lot of issues to discuss, and you're not leaving until we've talked about all of them, including your treatment program for my Apprentice."

That penetrated Anitra's medicated fog.

"You can't keep me here," she exclaimed, outraged. "I have matters to attend to, professional obligations…"

The Emperor smiled. It had a feral look to it. "I can do anything I want, Madam Concubine. I'm His Imperial Highness, the Emperor Palpatine. And just what professional obligations would you have to attend to? You've recused yourself from treating your only patient. You forget; you serve at my pleasure, Lady. I want you stay here, with me, and you're not leaving until I decide you can go."

Anitra was horrified. But Palpatine's next move was even more shocking.

"Come, let's get you into bed, so you can sleep off the drugs."

The Emperor approached her, the look in his eyes unreadable. He slowly circled his concubine and then stopped behind her. A hand reached up to her neck and unfastened her dress. It slid to the floor. Next he began to pull the pins out of her hair. She'd used a lot of them, so it took some time for him to remove them all.

There was no sound in the room at all except that of the Emperor's soft breathing, his hands in her hair.

When he'd finished his task, Palpatine's hands moved to her shoulders, and he caressed them gently. Then his fingers pushed the straps of her undergarment down and it dropped from her body too. His concubine wasn't wearing anything now except the priceless red diamonds. The Ruler of the Galaxy knelt at her feet, and carefully removed her shoes. Then he slowly rose, standing bare centimeters from her naked body the whole time. Without touching her.

The Imperial Lady was breathing fast and shallowly, her eyes closed. It had been such a long time. She ached for a man's touch. This man's might almost be acceptable. Almost.

The Emperor knew what she was thinking and feeling. The drugs had dulled her responses, and that was unfortunate, but she was clearly not at all adverse to his touch right now. He needed to proceed carefully. Palpatine loved carrying out an intricate plan. The precision, the need for absolute control, the attention to every tiny detail. This was going to be exquisitely painful for her. He was practically licking his lips in anticipation.

He slowly walked around her again, to stand at her back once more. "Come, Anitra." He whispered. He led the way to his huge bed, and pulled back the covers for her. "Get in," he said, equally softly. She complied, looking up at him for the first time. She didn't know what was wrong with her. This man was poison, his touch was tainted, his lips were venomous—he was an evil man and she knew it. But she was really close to wanting him to kiss her, hold her. Really, really close.

Palpatine looked at her in his bed, her black hair piled around her face on the pillow, the gems still on her ears and neck glittering in the faint light. Her eyes were heavy with desire and the need to sleep. She'd unwisely doubled the dose of the sedatives and was really feeling it now. He reached up to the neck of his robe, pulled it aside so she could see part of his chest. He knew it wasn't impressive; he was wiry, not muscular, but it wasn't bad. He had some chest hair, and he knew that this excited her. She used to like to caress him, run her fingers through it, the first few times they'd been together.

He recalled their first night. He thought it set a new personal standard for him, a level of accomplishment as a lover that he hadn't surpassed even yet, and he'd enjoyed it. She'd been pleased too.

Abruptly he leaned over and pulled the covers down to her waist so that her breasts were bared to his view. Bending over one of them, he carefully kissed it's full whiteness, small light kisses, then licked the nipple a little, circling the areola with his tongue. Anitra shuddered, gasped, but still did not reach for him. He looked up at her, trying to read her expression. He could tell she was wishing that she wasn't so drugged right now.

Good. Very, very good. One of his hands ran itself from her neck to her waist, gently caressing her. He gave her a smoldering look that took what remaining strength she had left away. Very softly, very passionately, he moaned her name. Anitra.

The Emperor bent over her breast again and leaned down to it. Suddenly his mouth closed over her nipple once more and he sucked it strongly, caressing it with his tongue. Pleasure shot through her, against her will, going right to her groin, causing her to become very hot, very wet. She gasped, whispered his name. Then her hand came up to his face, to touch him.

He pulled away before she could make contact, and made himself look regretful. "Good night, my dear," he said. And then he walked away.

"You must be Dr. Tariq," Vader said pleasantly. Jes smiled back. "Yes," he replied. "How are you feeling today?"

The Sith didn't answer. It was a silly question. He just sat back in his office chair and looked over his handsome doctor. With a little luck, the Dark Lord figured Tariq would be begging to suck his cock in a week, or ten days. At most. And then it would be Anitra's turn. He was looking forward to that.

The doctor realized that he'd probably asked a question that wouldn't get him anywhere. He recalled from Dr. Avendor's notes in Vader's chart that he was hostile and difficult to talk to. That wasn't unexpected, under the circumstances, but it appeared that this doctor-patient relationship might turn out to be a battle of wills, if the shrink wasn't careful.

Tariq tried another tack. "I understand that you've been having trouble sleeping. Has pain been keeping you awake at night?"

"No," replied Lord Vader.

His doctor didn't believe him. His patient had to be in a lot of pain, and as near as Jes could tell, he wasn't taking anything for it. Perhaps it was time for Tariq to have a good look at his patient. A thorough preliminary inspection. Provided, of course, the Dark Lord would tolerate it.

"My lord, I'd like to do a physical examination of you now. Would you be willing to allow this?"

Vader didn't want to, but he could see that it was a necessary first step. His new shrink was also a surgeon and a rehabilitation specialist. He probably had some valuable suggestions and insight on how to improve his mobility and overall condition. Tariq wasn't just a sexual conquest, he reminded himself. He had other uses as well.

The Sith nodded, got up out of his chair and approached his doctor. As he went, he took off his robe and let it drop on the floor.

Jes had seen a lot of wounded men in his profession. There wasn't anything he hadn't seen before. Or so he thought. It was so dark in the room that he couldn't see very well.

"Can the light levels in this room be raised?" the doctor asked.

With a wave of his hand, using the Force, Lord Vader turned up the lights until they were the brightness of ordinary daylight. The brilliant light made Tariq's patient's injuries very clear, clearer than the chart ever could.

The battlefield surgeon and shrink was tempted to despair, as he looked Vader over. It didn't seem possible that the Emperor's protégé could ever be what he had been before. But, he had to try.

Slowly, Jes approached the Dark Lord and carefully inspected him. The medical droids had done an adequate job of replacing Vader's natural limbs, but Tariq questioned the choice of prostheses. They were not proportionate; the legs were too long. Eventually that would affect the Sith's back and neck. The burns, at least, had been dealt with appropriately and were healing well. The pulmonary units had been installed with care and were functioning as they should; the surgical site was healing rapidly. The implanted telemetry for the units transmitted readings to a computer there in the office, and displayed them on a large viewscreen near the desk. The readings looked good. There had been heart damage also, but cardiac support had been built into the pulmonary units and the telemetry readings on that showed good function as well.

Of course, it helped that there was less body mass for his heart and lungs to support.

Next Dr. Tariq knew he would have to touch him. He knew this might be a problem. He was very reluctant to put his hands on Vader, but he didn't know why. He wasn't squeamish. What was wrong with him? What was he afraid of? He mentally shook himself.

"I'm going to have to touch you," the doctor told his patient. "Is this alright?"

Vader nodded again, as if graciously granting a great favor. Readying his focus, the Dark Lord began the process of subtly influencing his handsome doctor's mind. It had to be done with care. He was highly intelligent, not at all weak willed, probably did not prefer other men. In order to bring his new shrink under his control, he would have to overcome almost every natural and professional tendency Tariq had. It would take some time to do this, but the pay off would be very…satisfactory.

The doctor took the Sith's right hand in his, and stretched the arm out to its full extent. He did the same with the left. The points of attachment of the prostheses had been managed well, although they were two different types. One was obviously done earlier than the other. No sign of necrosis, no indication of bone or muscle stress in the remaining tissue. He walked behind Vader and felt the Sith's shoulders and back. The muscles were not tight or stressed. His spine was straight. The muscles of his shoulders and back were very well developed, beautiful. The burned skin was healing just as it should. The line of his body tapered from the broadness of his shoulders to a slender waist, and below that, the shape of his buttocks…

Tariq shook himself mentally again. His mind was wandering, and that was unusual.

Lord Vader read all of his doctor's thoughts and smiled. He was more suggestible than the Dark Lord had originally thought. A week or ten days, at most. Probably sooner.

Jes walked back around to face his patient, and got down on one knee. Taking first one artificial leg in his hands and then the other, Tariq repeated his inspection of the melding of man and machine. Yes, those legs were too long. In the course of ordinary life, there would most likely be no problems with them. But if the Emperor's protégé had to do hand-to-hand combat, there would be problems. The more fighting he did, the sooner they would manifest. Stress tests would be necessary to identify potential issues, and they would need to be done very soon.

The knee joints looked adequate. Vader's thighs were well developed. Very well developed. He was a powerful man, no question about it. It would be a challenge to keep him in that condition, and Jes could tell this would not be easy. He was glad he would have Dr. Avendor to consult on this.

Tariq next examined the Sith's abdominal muscles. They were strong too, there appeared to be good support there. The surgical droids had done a fine job making sure the chest muscle attachments that went through to the abdominals were not damaged.

Then his gaze traveled downwards slightly. He didn't know why, but he took a good look at his patient's penis and testes. They were untouched and there was no record of any damage or injury in the file he received. Nothing in Vader's chart indicated any problem. But he couldn't help looking. They were well-shaped and beautiful in their completeness and perfection.

Jes had no good reason to touch them, as there had been no damage and thus no repairs, but he was really tempted to feel them carefully, touch every surface, for the sake of being thorough. He wondered if Lord Vader felt healthy enough to feel sexual desire. It was an important question. Dr. Avendor's notes hadn't made any mention of this issue.

The Sith was very satisfied with the way things were proceeding. Tariq was taking all of his telepathic impressions without any kind of rejection. Perhaps his handsome shrink liked other men better than he believed he did. It was time to see how his new doctor would respond to a bit of additional stimuli.

As Dr. Tariq stared at the Vader's sex organ, he saw it become engorged under his gaze. It became even more beautiful, a darker rose-brown, and began to extend itself. His hand did reach out then, of its own accord, and shyly a finger ran along it. Silky, warm, the veins beginning to show blue through the skin. It was getting harder. Jes exhaled shakily. His hand touched it again, all his fingers sliding along its shaft, feeling the strength of the erection. Beautiful, it was so beautiful…

Lord Vader smiled to himself, as his doctor caressed him. Could it be today, perhaps? No, he told himself. If it were today, all the Sith would get is Tariq's sexual attention. That wasn't what he wanted. He wanted power and control over his doctor, wanted fear and passion. He wasn't going to get that this early. Vader needed the doctor's expertise more than he needed anything else from him right now. But Force, the sight of the handsome doctor, on his knees, about to…in spite of himself, the Dark Lord was breathing faster. The pulmonary units upped their performance levels.

As for the shrink, transfixed by his patient, before he knew it, his
whole hand was around the shaft of Lord Vader's organ, stroking it slowly and firmly. The other hand placed itself under the heavy velvet sacks, caressing them softly. Gods, they felt so good. Pre-cum began to ooze from the small teardrop slit in the middle of the glans. It glistened. Jes blinked rapidly, mesmerized. Then, without really knowing what he was doing, he leaned forward and gently began to lick it off. With every sweep of his tongue, he felt his own desire intensify, his own member harden painfully. He wanted more. He wanted to take his patient entirely into his mouth, and caress him with his tongue. To suck him while he caressed himself…

It was totally unprofessional. Unethical. Unforgivable.

Jes' tongue caressed the Dark Lord's penis. Delicious.

Vader finally spoke. It shocked Dr. Tariq back into reality as if he had slapped him.

"Doctor, are you sure you want to do this?"

Jes blinked, let go and stood up, shaking a little. "I'm sorry," he apologized, unable to meet his young patient's gaze.

"Don't be," the Dark Lord said gently. "You needed to know if I could feel desire. It was an important question to answer."

The shrink couldn't say anything. He couldn't believe what he'd just done. He'd never touched a patient before, never. He didn't prefer men. He didn't know what happened, he really didn't. But he knew his duty demanded that he recuse himself. Immediately.

Lord Vader turned and picked up his robe, put it back on. All this guilt and angst on his doctor's part was most satisfactory, but there was other work to do. First things first.

Jes still couldn't say anything more, couldn't look at his patient. He was so ashamed. The Sith walked up to his shrink, took his chin in one durasteel hand and made him look up at him. There was pain and genuine confusion in Dr. Tariq's handsome face. Jes saw only kindness in the Dark Lord's beautiful eyes.

"What I did was unethical and unprofessional," the doctor told his patient. "I should remove myself from your case."

"Please don't. I need your help."

Tariq knew it was true. No one was better equipped with psychiatric knowledge and battlefield experience than he was to help with Lord Vader's many therapeutic issues. It was a great professional challenge, and he would have the help of Dr. Avendor to see him through any difficult areas. She could help keep him honest. He knew she could. And the fact was, Jes badly wanted this professional challenge, to help this man regain as much of what he'd lost as possible. It was his calling, his vocation.

"I will remain," the doctor promised after a moment. "I will not touch you that way again."

"Thank you," replied the Dark Lord, smiling gratefully. He knew Dr. Jes Tariq would suck his cock and love it within a week. Ten days at most. And the shrink would never be able to figure out how or why.

Sex was about power. The power was his.

To be continued...

Home Fiction Adult Fiction Art Mail List Staff Links