The Qi’ra Comic Story in Written Form (Patreon)

Qi’ra: Crimson Porn

Erstwhile, on Corellia.

A daring escape had fallen flat, her boyfriend Han’s impulsive decision to bite the hand that fed lead to a thrilling speeder chase, but her capture at the hands of Moloch’s men. Hauled back to the White Worms subterranean lair and thrown in a cell, she sat in waiting for Lady Proxima’s punishment. 

The cell, bathed in blue inside and outside, was cold and damp. Qi’ra sat huddled on the bench, going over the last hour in her head, staring into a puddle that had gathered in the centre of the room. There were so many people in that spaceport, jostling and knocking her about, her grip on Han’s hand loosened and she was pulled away. She could still feel him, still hear the stormtroopers shouting.

Snapping back to reality she looked to the two men, Rebolt and Syke, Corellian thugs, keeping guard either side of her cell. They were the ones who caught her, she’d known them for years. Not the sharpest vibroknives in the toolbox, and loyal to a fault, or so it seemed. They were men after all, they had wants, and desires, some the White Worms could give them. Others only Qi’ra could. She’d seen their wandering gazes her way, it was hard to miss. This was her moment to exploit.

With the shake of her head she flicked her hair from her face, arched her back to push out her chest, her breasts straining against the red fabric. Qi’ra turned to face the two guards, her head cocked to the side. “Oh boys,” she cooed. They both glanced her way, Syke’s lingering a fraction of a second longer. “Isn’t this all rather silly?” Qi’ra asked, slowly sliding herself along the bench, closer to the gate. “One little mistake and we have to go through all this?”

“Proxima’s orders,” Rebolt grumbled. “You tried escaping with the traitor Han, we all saw you. You’re getting what you deserve.”

“Han dragged me along with him, he tricked me,” she sighed, “I thought I knew him, thought he was a real man, but he’s not. Just a scoundrel. Not like you two.” She stood and swaggered over to the bars, leaning against them. The two guards turned to look her way.

“Oh yeah?” Sykes asked.

“Oh yeah,” Qi’ra grinned, “Now how’s this for a scenario? One girl, two big strong men,” It was blunt, to the point, made more evident as she gripped the bars and slid down to her knees, her free hand teasing her neckline and exposing her breasts “How can we resist?”

Sykes looked around, checking the coast was clear as he began to feverishly undress. Rebolt looked on it what seemed to be horror before he gave a heavy sigh and started to undress himself.

In seconds, their cocks were free, springing forth from their pants into her waiting hands. They shuddered at the warm human touch as she began to stroke them rhythmically, edging her face closer to the bars. Eyes connecting with Syke, Qi’ra pulled him closer and opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue, flicking the tip of his head and then taking him into her mouth. Qi’ra moaned loudly as Rebolt shuffled forwards, his own cock inches from her cheek.

Qi’ra slid Syke’s cock, dripping wet, from her mouth before taking Rebolt’s in its place. She looked up, Rebolt’s head laid back and Sykes’ eyes lazily looking down at her. Out with Rebolt, in with Syke, continuing her stroking more vigorously. Rebolt’s hand came through the bars as she went back to his cock, and grabbed the back of her head to guide her down on him with more speed. She pulled her head back, and he thankfully let go. Now was the time, she leaned in once more and pulled them both closer to the bar, so close they were touching shoulder to shoulder, their cocks pressed into one another. Qi’ra opened wide and slid them right in, they both let out moans themselves and threw their heads back and away from her. Qi’ra’s hands now free, she reached up to their shirt fronts, grabbed them tight. She let go of their members from her mouth and pulled back as hard as she could, slamming both their heads into the metal bars and causing them to both drop to the floor, unconscious. 

Wiping her mouth and reaching through the bars to grab the keycard from Rebolt’s belt around his ankles, Qi’ra was free from the cell. Covering herself in Sykes’ jacket and helmet, she ascended to the ground level and out of the White Worm’s lair, jumping into a speeder left parked by the entrance and taking off in the direction of the space port.

Night had set in, the dark streets lit in the yellow glow of street lamps and the industrial factories as the cold air with droplets of rain whipped her face and blew about her hair. Within minutes she was by the space port, parking the speeder in a dark alley, and keeping to the shadows as she looked into the terminal awash with fluorescent white light. It was quieter than before, scant stormtroopers patrolled the area. The Imperial Recruitment kiosk had closed for the night, and despite a Rodian family seated near checkins, there was no one in sight. Han was gone. 

Qi’ra waited, continuing to scan the space port, pacing the streets and searching around for a good half an hour. Soon another White Worm speeder arrived, Moloch was looking for her. She fled the scene, trying to act casual, checking out the cantinas and inns she and Han had frequented, but there was nothing. She sat on a stoop after returning to the space port, Moloch had gone, and weighed up her options. Her boyfriend had left, their ticket off Corellia, a vial of coaxium hyperfuel, was gone and in the possession of the Imperial checkin officer. Qi’ra knew no one, she had no friends that weren’t under the White Worm’s thumb. No one to turn to for shelter or transport. No way out...

Unless...

***

“Qi’ra, whatever happened to you?” hissed Lady Proxima, the pale centipede-like Grindalid alien, still carrying her sunburn wounds, emerged from her watery pond. “You were such a loyal Head Girl, ever dutiful, yet you threw it away for some boy!”

“Han betrayed me, as he betrayed you,” Qi’ra spoke loudly so the entire assembly of White Worm scrum rats that had gathered in Proxima’s chamber could hear. “He betrayed us all, and made me go with him.”

“You took his hand, we saw it!” Proxima sneered,

“He took my hand, dragged me from here. He was acting crazy, it was unlike him, I didn’t know what he was doing.”

“So you were nothing but a damsel? Not a co-conspirator? I find that hard to believe, and after what trusted Han did to me, an attack on my life that has left me disfigured, I’m finding it difficult to trust the word of anyone, let alone his accomplice,” Proxima leaned forward, her head now level with Qi’ra’s. “Why break from your cell, and assault my poor men?”

“If they couldn’t hold themselves against me, perhaps it’s them whose loyalty you should question,” she stood her ground, but she could heard Moloch approaching her from behind. “I broke free to find Han, to talk some sense into him. But Han is gone, he abandoned you, Lady Proxima. But I returned.”

“Bah,” Lady Proxima grunted as she leaned back to tower over the room once more.

“Lady Proxima, I have been nothing but loyal and dutiful, and thankful for all you have allowed me to have,” Qi’ra said. “I’m so sorry I was lead astray by Han, that I escaped, but I’m standing before you now when I could have left. I came back. I beg of you, please, forgive me.”

Lady Proxima studied her a moment, her beady eyes glistening in the dark. Finally, she spoke. “It is forgiven, but not forgotten. Qi’ra, you are stripped of your title of Head Girl and all the privileges that come with it. If you are loyal you will not hesitate to earn back my trust.”

Qi’ra let out a sharp sigh of relief and nodded her thanks, as Proxima lowered herself into her pool. “And remember, not to let any boy lead you astray again. You’re mine now.”

Qi’ra nodded and turned to leave the chamber with Moloch, throwing the coat and helmet back to a half naked Sykes.

***

Four Months Later

The target was a Twi’lek man, his skin tan and head tails fat from opulence. One would have thought he’d had afforded his fortnightly payments on that fancy new landspeeder, but instead he gorged himself and bet it away at the races. His biology let all his love of food go to his lekku rather than his waist, so he still cut a trim and attractive figure. He definitely wasn’t the worst she’d had to encounter, and for him, Qi’ra was anything but the worst.

She stood under the pink lights outside the cantina early evening, her revealing outfit peaking out from beneath a faux bantha coat. She lowered her gaze and smiled his way, as he crossed the snowy lane to her. A flash of her curves as she intentionally parted the coat, making him grin. They exchanged words, a deal was made, he followed her down the alley to a small, dark bedroom, and she noted the bulge of his speeder keys in his front trouser pocket. 

Qi’ra stripped for him, dancing to some tune drifting through the window, her breasts spilling from her top with each sway as he lay back on the bed playing with himself. She got down to her knees and took him in her mouth, after a few minutes she was on top, then after that she was on the bottom, her head pressed into the sheets as he thrust into her, kneading her arse and thighs with his hands.

At the end, he collapsed into bed, and quickly began to snore. Qi’ra hastily dressed, pulling on more practical boots, a skirt and yellow top she had stowed in a bag under the bed earlier. She grabbed his keys from his trousers, and snuck out the door, locating his speeder and taking off.

“I’ve got the vehicle,” she yelled to Moloch over the sound of rushing wind, her boss appearing in hologram form from the communicator in the speeder’s console.

“Good, good. There’s been a change of plan. You’re to meet a new client at the docks. Pier 68,” said Moloch.

“You going to tell me who this client is or what he wants?” she asked, but the transmission cut out. Rolling her eyes, she turned the speeder around and headed for the docks.

She saw the yacht, tall and coloured black and gold, as she approached the docks. It stood out from the grey stormy skies, the factories and half built Star destroyers. It was only when she got closer she realised it was her destination. She pulled up the speeder, shivering in the snow and approached the yacht, looming like a skyscraper. Workmen in black loaded crates up the ramp to the glowing doorway, where the silhouette of a figure stood framed. Qi’ra looked around, then back up to the doorway. “Moloch sent me,” she called out.

“You must be the famous Qi’ra,” the man in the doorway said, as he descended the ramp towards her. Tall, blonde, his chiseled face lined with vertical scars, his tone of voice austere like those of the Empire. “Or perhaps infamous, Moloch did say you were prone to causing trouble.” He stopped at the end of the ramp, shiny black shoes not touching the dirty concrete pier. He offered out his hand, not to shake but to lead her back up to the yacht. “My name is Dryden Vos, of the Crimson Dawn. You may have of heard of us.”

“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” Qi’ra smiled, feeling underdressed and very cold in her light t-shirt, that was already damp from the snow and light rain on the drive over. She took Vos’ hand, and followed him up the ramp.

“The Dawn is a rather new enterprise, but we’re growing quickly and always on the lookout for new members. Like you,” said Vos.

“Me?”

“You seem surprised?” Vos asked, coming to a stop and turning to her.

“Pleasantly, yeah,” she nodded.

“Amongst the complaints, Moloch did speak highly of you,” Vos’ hand lightly guiding her by the shoulder, they continued up the ramp into the yacht, the walls white and gold and bathed in a warm glow. “Highly skilled, very accomplished, going above and beyond the call of duty, admittedly with some wobbles but willing to make up for those mistakes. I don’t know why Moloch seemed so keen to be rid of you, but if he can’t appreciate all you do, perhaps your talents, your calling, lies elsewhere. With us. Drink?”

Qi’ra blinked and a gold rimmed glass, filled with red wine, was offered to her on a tray by a decraniated maid in a tight floor length gown. She took her glass and Vos his as he guided her to a console alone the wall. “This is very sudden, Mister Vos. I am currently employed to the White Worms and Lady Proxima, and I’m still paying off my debt to them.”

“Where did you just come from, before you came to meet me?” Vos sipped his wine.

“I was repossessing a speeder from a man who didn’t pay his own debts to Lady Proxima,” Qi’ra answered.

“Was is difficult? Much of a struggle? Get in a bit of a fight?”

“No, I think he took it well,” she hid her smirk with a sip from her glass.

“But don’t you wish for more?” Vos shrugged, “You are more more than a bailiff, Qi’ra, your skills, your beauty...with us, we could train you, make you into something more while you enjoy the finer things life has to offer.” He spoke with passion, his scars seemed to darken, or maybe it was the light. “Do you believe in the Force, Qi’ra? I had a vision, of young woman, like you, coming to us on a night like this, by my side as I spread the Dawn across the galaxy. Fate has willed our meeting, Qi’ra, on this routine and otherwise unremarkable trip to Corellia, the Force made our vision come true, do you see?”

Qi’ra stood in silence, Dryden’s words still washing over her, before he continued, “Forget about the White Worms, the debt is paid, you’re a free woman. But you’re alone in this galaxy, abandoned by those you thought cared. We can offer you anything.”

She nodded, strutting to Vos’ side by the console. “If what you say is true, and my debt to the White Worms is paid...we might be starting a new chapter together, Dryden.”

They smiled, and stared into one another’s eyes. “So it’s a yes? I am delighted,” he set down his glass, and pressed a glowing red button on the console, as a hologram glowed into view, “Your loyalty is to be commended, I just hope Qi’ra, that we can expect the same unwavering loyalty for us. I trust you will, I have a sense of it.” She looked to the hologram, the picture quality was bad but she could make out a dark hall, and then the chamber of Proxima. A live video feed to the White Worm’s lair?

“I mean, they never really appreciated you, did they? Treating you like the whipping boy, or girl in your case. Like a hound whipped into submission. Loyalty through fear, effective sure but it’s better to reward and have people on side, wouldn’t you agree?” Qi’ra watched the feed, as Lady Proxima, Moloch and the others came into view. Crimson Dawn soldiers stood by, and raised their blasters, and opened fire. A lump rose in Qi’ra’s throat and her eyes widened as she watched her former masters riddled with shots, chunks torn from their mangled bodies with flashes of red. It came to a stop, the room was silent and the feed froze on the image of Proxima’s charred corpse.

She swallowed, smiled, and turned back to look Vos in the eye, his scars flush with red. “Yes,” she answered, “I do.”

***

Shortly afterwards, the Dawn’s yacht took off and hurtled into hyperspace once it left Corellia’s atmosphere. Qi’ra was guided to a shower room by a cat faced alien and asked to strip. She did, and stood under the shower head before a jet of cold water blasted her back from above. She cried and cackled as the water soon warmed up, the cat faced man standing by and looking displeased with a scrubbing brush and soap in hand.

She snatched it away and washed herself, rinsing and drying off out of the shower and guided to a private room. She dressed in the black tunic set out for her, trying her hair back, and going to meet Vos.

The training began shortly afterwards. Sparring, with instructors in padded armour who didn’t hesitate or pull punches. She learnt quick, she knew some moves from the streets of Corellia, and within a week she was hitting back harder than she was taking.

Then came the swords, first regular, then vibroblades, Vos studying from the shadows and at times joining in. It was dangerous, it was intimate, despite the threat there was a spark growing between them. It was still rough, a lot of the time unpleasant, but it beat what the White Worms had offered by a considerable margin. Cruelty was everywhere, even in a setting as luxurious as this, Vos’ servant had the entire top of her head replaced with cybernetic components, nothing more than an attractive body draped in fabrics and a pretty mouth. It was unsettling, not just her nature but to consider those who did it. The others in black tunics, who would spar with her or serve the masters as she did, all carried brands of the Dawn’s sigil on the back of their necks and insides of their wrists. “When is this one to be branded?” The cat man asked Vos, as Qi’ra lay winded on the floor during sparring. 

“I dare not mark something this precious while her loyalty remains untested,” Vos said, kneeling besides her with his hand on her shoulder.

It was later on that same space of floor he would kiss that neck, the room deserted and doors locked, as Vos pinned her down and pounded into her, groping her breasts and whispering her name into her ear. She had initiated the sexual relationship weeks before, nearly daily they met in his quarters or some deserted part of the ship, the power dynamics changing encounter to encounter. She really enjoyed when he took charge, even roughly, almost as much as when she was on top.

Soon, she was deemed ready to go on assignments. Meetings for deals and trades, as a negotiator and sometimes as nothing more than arm decoration for Vos, a distraction tactic for their targets. There was freedom with wild parties, usually with sex and all kinds of partners. Vos spoke proudly and candidly about her to his business partners, she sat beside and listened, nodding and smiling as they leered her way. What did it matter, she and Vos had the power.

Then came the hits. Her training had worked, she barely flinched as she ended the lives of countless people, good or bad, it stopped mattering shockingly quickly. Robed in satin gowns and draped in luxury jewellery, she never faltered, soon she was always by Dryden’s side, and started making her own moves under Vos’ watchful gaze.

Then came the meeting. Qi’ra had quickly figured Vos wasn’t the man with all the power, his talk of the Force and destiny made him sound like the the long dead Jedi, so she guessed whoever gave the orders was of a similar belief. And she was somewhat right.

On the planet of Dathomir, a newly built temple hidden within the forest, she met him. Maul, the leader of the Crimson Dawn, a man whose name was known only to those now present in the room. Dowsed in shadow and robed in black, his eyes glowed from under the hood, his teeth glistening in the candlelight as he spoke. “So this is the one called Qi’ra,” he whispered. 

“This is her,” Dryden nodded.

Maul stood and approached, pacing back and forth as he studied her. She kept her composure, staring ahead. “The Force willed our meeting, Qi’ra, and made it so,” he removed his hood, his red head tattooed in jagged black lines and adorned with a crown of horns. “Dryden Vos tells me of your success,” he began to circle them, his gaze was intense. “But I have doubts. You have served the Dawn now for well over a year. You act like the Dawn, you fight like the Dawn, you wear the trappings of the Dawn,” he snatched her wrist and held it to the light. It was bare, unblemished. “But you are not yet of the Dawn. Those who serve do so without fear, without question, and without doubt,” he brought his face next to hers, his putrid breath washing over her, “and I sense much doubt in you.”

Dryden was speechless, so Qi’ra spoke, unwavering, “I am loyal, and I will prove it. I’ll do what must be done.” Dryden looked to her, he was in conflict, Maul seemed to know without looking, letting out a deep sigh, before turning and leaving the room.

The brand was like the pain of a vibroblade wound, searing into her wrist and the back of her neck. Dryden watched on, regret his eyes, his face the palest it had ever been. While it was agonising, the pain quickly subsided, healing bacta bandages were applied to the new marks, and Qi’ra was forever a part of the Crimson Dawn. 

And so it continued, time passed much more smoothly, her loyalty now unquestioned. It was fun, for the most part. Rewarding and liberating, as she indulged herself and spread the influence of the a Crimson Dawn across the galaxy’s Outer Rim.

A trip to the snowy planet Vandor was routine, in the ballroom aboard the yacht, all kinds of exotic beings from the highs and lows of criminal society gathered. Qi’ra stood on a balcony overlooking the room, awash with a feeling of power. How far she’d come from the sewers of Corellia, that life was all but behind-hold on, was that Han?

She couldn’t believe it, it had been three years, yet there he was, ambling through the room with a confident smirk across that dashing face. She drifted down the steps, her body felt outside her control, her heard raced, she stifled a giggle as she approached him, standing by the window, and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, eyes widened at the sight of her, and they both broke into wide grins, embracing each other, before he let go and cupped her face on his hands.

“What are you doing here?” he asked breathlessly.

“I work here,” she beamed, her tone one she hadn’t spoken in for years, “what’s your excuse?”

She remembered where she was, panic flooded her from within as she quickly glanced to the passing guards, making sure they couldn’t see. This wasn’t the sort of intimacy one usually partook in at these events.

“I...Qi’ra...” he stammered, blinking rapidly, “I was coming back for you-“

“It’s in the past, Han,” she cut him off, taking his hands in hers.

“Not for me, the only reason I’m here, I was doing this job, get a load of money, then I was gonna come back to Corellia and find you.”

It had been so long, she’d made herself forget, the panic within her mixed with all those feelings she’d long hidden away, flooding her and making her voice tremble. “Well, now you don’t have to...I’m right in front of you.”

Han swallowed hard, he shook his head in disbelief, his eyes locked on hers, “Sometimes, a lot of times, I think...”

“If you’d had stayed,” she cut him off again, saying the same things she’d told herself that first year, “they would’ve killed you...I’m glad you got out.”

Han smiled, and blinked back tears, “how did you get out?” he asked.

The simple question hit her like a punch to the gut. Every defence she had put up was falling, one by one. She thought about the worry she felt that first night, if Proxima had rejected her. The hollow feeling as she stood outside the cantina shivering to attract a man she could easily have killed. Oh the deaths, every one by her hand, the faces of those who she killed crossed her mind. How she could do that now, how it didn’t matter. Dryden’s hands on her wrists, grasping her hips, stroking her cheek or gripping it in the throes of passion. Every moment from the last three years flashed across her mind in an instant, before Han’s face appeared, both before her in that ballroom, and three years ago through the glass at the Imperial checkpoint at the Corellian space port.

She blinked rapidly and gave a dry smile, glancing around the room and trying to compose herself as the truth finally left her mouth. 

“I didn’t.”

***

Author’s note;

This is the full story of the Qi’ra comic I’ve been planning since 2018, expanded with additional character and story development. They say a picture is worth a thousand words and it sure is when you can describe a setting and character design in one sketch when it takes several paragraphs otherwise. But writing is so much quicker.

The story is largely unchanged from when it was first conceived. Lots of work and research went into the story and I finally realised you’ve all waited too long to find out where it would go, so if you’ve read this, let me know what you think.