ANH: Power down your lifts and submit to this trooper’s will

From Create Your Own Story

Resigned to your fate as a stormtrooper plaything, you ready yourself for the standard beat down. This isn’t your first Imperial entanglement. The rank in file troops would rather resort to old fashioned corporal punishment rather than plug up their days with processing, and you've been bad enough to know the taste of durasteel trooper boot. With any luck, you'll get out of this with a light caning, and a bruised ego. Hopefully catching you with your cock in your hand won't give this particular buckethead any ideas.

Your foot hits the air breaks and your speeder decelerates before sputtering dust like a dying dewback. You'd like to cover up and clean the jizz off your windshield, but you know the drill when dealing with these guys. Your cum covered mitts go straight in the air. The best way to get through this with all limbs intact is to become as submissive as possible. Time has thought you that these cornfed bucketbrains are high on cruelty but not particularly imaginative and as long as you don’t resist they’ll grow bored pretty easy.
The swoop bike burps to a stop a few feet away. crunch crunch crunch go the jackboots on the desert floor. Your heart pounds at your chest walls like a caged lizard-rodent.

The footsteps stop right behind you. You take a long breath, wholly aware of the unseen shape operating just outside your vision. Clack! go the binders as they lock on to your outstretched wrists. They tighten, and your posture sags with the added weight of them. Pretty forward for a patrol trooper you think, maybe you’ll be in for more than the customary beating.

“Looks like I caught another farm kid with his pants down” the trooper chuckles to himself as he rounds the speeders front. “Third One this week”
The form that meets your eyes is seven feet tall and half as broad. The breastplate of his uniform is gone, replaced with a geometric weave of leather and ring, pulled tight against defined flesh. Chisel-tipped nipples rise from oiled pecs. What’s left of his armour seems to be strapped to his body with cable wire. It’s premolded shape doing a poor job of coverage against the sheer expanse of his beefy limbs.
Your eyes move cautiously downward. Gathered round his waist is a skirt of pain givers. Every brand of stun weapon and vibro-whip find representatives, ready to be implemented at a moments notice. Perched atop this ugly pile of Shredded flesh, weaponry and torn armour, is the standard issue helmet, polished to a mirror finish, gleaning like a fucking diamond in the midnight moons.

ANH: Gulp.

Star Wars: The Complete Erotic Saga
Character:
Luke Skywalker

Setting:
A New Hope