Femee Chabrik

by Tem-ve H'syan (tem-ve@gmx.de)

The earthy stench of the tree I'm pressed up against is almost overpowering, invading my heightened senses with a thickness that almost chokes me. The sweat at the nape of my neck has started prickling again, and the short hairs there rise in anticipation of the catch. Quickly, and without making a sound, I tuck the braid behind my ear and raise my blowpipe. I can feel the closeness of whatever it is that The Seeing has sent me out here to hunt down, and all there is to it is to wait, and aim.

The hunters had been more than a little puzzled to hear that I would be accompanying them. Not that I would be a burden, oh no. I am well-trained in the martial arts and the hunter's stealth and would be a welcome addition to any hunting party. But what, I heard them murmur amongst themselves, made the Priest want to join something as mundane as a simple monkey hunt, merely an everyday activity in order to get some meat on the fires and maybe some nice feathers for the ceremonial garb that hadn't been brushed up and repaired for the upcoming Three-Moons Night? What made Wan-Ken, the Goddess' chosen child, blessed by her with The Seeing, go out into the rainforest with the other men when he had every right to stay behind and claim the first share of their quarry anyway?

Well, I hadn't told them, and they hadn't asked. They know me well enough to be sure that there will be no answers forthcoming if they're not obvious. It is not obvious why I am here now. Hells, it is not even obvious to me. This is not about monkeys, though. This is about something larger, potentially lethal. The shadow images of the Seeing speak of sweeping power, great muscles and feline grace. A brown mane. The kind of animal even my eyes have never truly seen, not outside the fever-dreams of the Initiation anyway, when all the myths and legends instil themselves in the young Priest's mind. And I don't remember seeing _this_ even then.

I strain my eyes to discern even the faintest movement. Brown on brown, hard to spot, smooth fur against a background of rain-washed tree trunks and curtains of vines that blur all outlines into a zebra pattern of foreground and background until the mind screams like a caged beast and the body twitches involuntarily and the animal is gone. The animal is not yet here, but I sense its approach, a faint hum at the back of my head. The Seeing will show me the way, and the purpose of this. Obi has never yet failed me, she who surrounds me in nature as well as name, making me Wan-Ken embraced by the Goddess: Obi Wan-Ken Obi. I feel at ease despite the tension, a feeling akin to the hunger before a great feast. The cat, Obi, will be your Three-Moons sacrifice. Just tell me so.

Something rustles in the undergrowth, and I spin round and almost catch my blowpipe on the tree nearest to me. Thank Obi the dart is still in it, and I shoot it at the large moving form even before I have any chance to see. A short sharp 'p' punctuates the humid stillness of the rainforest, followed by a noise that sounds suspiciously like a human voice. Low, almost a rumble. The cat is playing tricks on me. Still, he'll be lying at my feet before the next hundred heartbeats ­ pewenu is not powerful enough to kill, but will stun quite effectively for the hunter's obsidian knives to do the rest. Let me see you fall, I pray silently, inching out of the cover of the vines to catch a glimpse of what I know is the source of the hum in the back of my mind. The animal that Obi has sent me out here to bring back to her altar.

A large brown form, sleek and dark and reaching to about chest height, growling under its breath in the dim light of the rainforest floor. Then, movement. Rearing up to fall at my feet? Show me your claws, cat, so I can feed my joy at having overcome you back into the humming bond with my Goddess. Rise up and... oh.

It... rises up. On two legs. It is... it. Not it. He. He is a human, and the brown not his fur nor his skin but his clothes. Clothed, in the heat and humidity of Femee Chabrik. Rising, still rising. Powerful, tall, graceful. The Seeing was right about everything except the species apparently. Head still bowed, hands picking at the dart that must have embedded itself in his knee, great swathes of long thick dark hair streaming from his head, shot through with silver like moonlight rays... I count heartbeats, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred, hardly noticing how my heart races now, at the sight of those huge strong hands delicately extricating the hooked dart from his flesh. No wince of pain in that strong body, no visible weakening, no staggering. One hundred and ten heartbeats. Goddess, he's still standing. And advancing, one faltering step in my direction, hand brushing hair from his rising face.

Oh Obi. Giver of unexpected gifts. I would fall down on my knees and thank you in fervent prayer, if I wasn't so sure he would simply kill me with one look from those eyes if I moved now. Eyes the coolest crystal blue I've ever seen, and fixed on me with such intensity that the hum in my mind drowns out all other thought. A murmur of voices silts up my head, chattering in strange tongues, smacking their ethereal lips, moaning. A rising tide of voices, of thoughts crashing on the shoreline of my consciousness. Want. Need. Goddess-send. Mine. Mine. This adorable creature must. Be. Mine.

He is within arm's length of me now, and I can't move, transfixed by the smouldering stare from those impossible eyes. Glassy now, at the short distance, fighting the pewenu to the last drop. My instincts tell me to run or fight, and I clearly cannot do either. My lips tingle with a sensation I have never felt in my life but which is so plainly obvious... as every creature knows thirst can only be quenched by water, and itches by scratching, so this tingling sensation cries out for a kiss, a hard hot sucking kiss, lips warring for supremacy and yielding to the other until there is nothing but wet sensuous languid warmth and a delicious shortage of breath... I realise my lips have parted, open in expectation of the kiss, when in reality I am facing the enemy, doubtless here to avenge the wound I caused him. I stare, half in horror, half in sheer undisguised lust, as the glorious heavy body bears down on me... and Sii gives a short warning yell and shoots a second pewenu-drenched dart at him. It embeds itself in the back of his neck, cutting clean through the thick curtain of hair, and it is enough to send him over the edge into unconsciousness, slumping against me, face tilted up, eyes sliding shut, unseeing, mouth open. Oh how I long to devour that mouth... but that must not be until I can prove Obi that I am man enough to make him mine first. I hold the heavy solid warm mass of his body up against me, clasping him tight around his hips. Slender, strong hips. This one will be a pleasure to break.

I am... I. Am. Wash of brown around the edges of seeing. Hazed. Hard-pressed. Uprooted, I feel uprooted. Upside down. I am upside down. Dawning awareness. Head throbbing like crazy, reverberating clay walls around my conscious self, me on the outside. The Force... on the inside. Hammering resounding beats. Helpless. Upside down. Reach out. For your hands at least, Jinn. Hands. Upside down. Bound. Tied to a long pole with rough tree-bark twine, cutting, harsh, firm. Legs. On fire, from knee to ankle. Tied to the pole as well, me ­ hanging from it. Upside down. Carried along like some dead animal. Stay under, Jinn, don't let them see you awake. If... awake is what I am. The pain in my head and limbs seems to say so, becoming more acute as consciousness returns into my cramped mind. Powerful poison. The back of my neck burns like red-hot metal, even the touch of my own hair a searing pain on the over-sensitised skin... my voice has given out, throat dry and sandpaper-rough. Deep breaths, Jinn. Calm. Cough. Oh Sith. They have...heard... me... my left arm goes up in flames, and the darkness on the inside of the flame envelops me once again.

Calm would be a long time coming, but Obi is gracious today and gives me The Seeing without the necessary rituals. As if I could keep calm with this sight in front of me. I had made a point of walking at the top end of the pole, with just Sii supporting the rear. No need to cause any stir, and the others will still want to hunt down some serious monkeys and not some freak men appearing out of nowhere giving me the screaming willies among other things.

I crouch on the mat outside my hut dipping into The Seeing and reading the floods of thoughts Obi sends into my mind at the sight of what Sii is doing to our beautiful victim. Would that I could do it myself, but I fear I might simply succumb, and what good would that be? He needs to be made mine in all respects, needs to be divested of his own will to become a part of me, a part of the Priest of Obi, eventually a part of the Goddess. The voices get louder and more insistent every time I think down that path, and now that Sii is removing the last of the clothing from the prone body they are quite clear on the subject of what I would like to do to that man. Sii is utterly unimpressed, bless him, and leaves the loincloth on, then levers the delicious load upright and leans him against the towering fawaa tree around the back of my house.

So gorgeous, all long muscular limbs and easy grace. Wide smooth chest heaving with long and laboured breaths, head hanging limply to one side, showing off the long elegant neck and all that vulnerable pale skin waiting to be marked... eyes closed, mouth slightly open, half-slumped against the tree trunk in a curve that can only be described as sensuous, all taut muscles and clean lines and pale finely-scarred skin against the rough dark bark. Food for the Goddess. Hunger.

Sii returns from the hut, carrying the ritual bonds, and performs an unquestioning variation of the task he has been doing since he was a teenager: to bind the sacrificial animal. And although this is not a tinraa this time, or a poi ape, the thoughtless ease with which he performs his task is almost mesmerising. Unquestioning, trusting me to alter the ritual according to the victim's species. This delicious victim. Arms pulled behind him, strapped tightly around the large tree trunk. I watch in awe as Sii winds the long smooth straps of hide around the man's wrists and elbows and upper arms, weaving him tightly to the tree. Of course the hide has been moistened and it glistens most satisfactorily in the fading light of evening. I feel desires rising in me sharply at the thought of how they will contract, ever so slightly, upon drying, digging into his wonderful taut flesh, rendering him absolutely motionless.

More wide straps wrap snugly around his trim waist and those massive long thighs, flesh so firm that the bonds might not dig in even when they've fully dried. Sii nudges his feet apart slightly, then secures his knees, above and below, almost lovingly. Feet on the ground, just about, legs spread deliciously, wantonly, for me. The last strap winds around the top of the trunk, just below the first branch, and as far up as Sii can reach. The man is quite a lot taller than either of us. So much of him to be conquered, broken, devoured. I lick my lips in anticipation as the bond catches below his chin, and Sii slowly pulls it tighter until it fits snugly around his proud throat, holding his head up. Almost reverently, Sii untangles the man's luxuriant long hair from where it has got caught in the bonds, then retreats wordlessly to his home, leaving me alone to contemplate the feast laid out before me.

I... am held. Head over heels, not heels over head, head still swimming. Shake. My hair's all over the place, in the way. Can't see. Brush it off, Jinn, where's your hand? Hand, Jinn. Why's it not... oh. Held? By... Sith, using the Force hurts. Shards of the clay wall cutting into my brain. Stay under, Jinn, you're not shielded. In shards, you are, and... held. Fast. Bound. Motionless, and you can't even find it in you to panic. Strange calm, to feel all of my naked skin in the clasp of these bonds, holding me up. I am not sure I could. Hold myself up. Risk one eye, Jinn, one glance. They left your privates covered. Savages with a sense of decency? Who on...

Acute senses. One eye was enough. One savage with a sense of decency. One savage assault on decency. One... golden, half-naked open smile of a man, raising his head from his squatting position. How long has he been watching me? What for? Humiliated is what I should feel. I feel nothing. He closes in, closer, obscenely close, face filling my vision. My mind stays blank. There are no thoughts for this kind of situation. I wonder how aware he thinks I am. Trick him into laying off the drugs? I am confused enough as it is. What for, all of this? Who is he to command me so shamefully, and who am I to not react ashamedly? What is that glistening in his eyes, on his lips? Lust? For _me_? Oh Force, let that chalice pass. Not for me to be raped and abused. Long ago I did away with that side of the human condition, before even tasting it fully. Pleasures of the mind were mine, not of the flesh... now, shards of the mind are mine, and as for the flesh... the searing heat that threatens to burn me up in a flare of anguish and shock reveals itself as a hand. His hand, on my flesh. His face, in my face. His voice.

"Like that?"

His breath hitches as I squeeze his impressive cock through the thin loincloth. It is still limp but the throb of blood within makes my fingers tingle with anticipation, and the size of it is quite satisfactory even in this state. He tenses, muscles showing their full sinewy strength outlined breathtakingly against the dark leather bonds. He likes it, I sense it. Deep down under layers of pewenu-induced stupor and unstable shielding, The Seeing gives me a glimpse of his insides, pulsing in time with the blood under my fingertips. It will have to come to the surface. I chuckle at the double meaning. Yes, the lust will have to come to the surface as well as the blood. May Obi help me in this delicate operation. The deal between us, my Goddess. I make him mine, and he is yours, just as I have been yours since my initiation. Let me initiate him, spark him off, make him full. Oh, to fill him with my own throbbing flesh is a thought too delicious to be indulged in quite yet... he is so stiff, everywhere but where I am, refusing me entry into him, mind and body. That will have to change.

"You _do_ like that," I purr into his ear, and oh, the scent of his hair as my lips brush against his tender skin arouses me further. Mine, he will be mine, and I will gorge myself on him... my hand rubs harder of its own accord, and his body tenses to such an extent that I can feel the clenched jaw muscles against my questing lips. Not a word from that mouth so tightly closed, such a prize to prise open, as I know I will. If these lips will not part in a word, a kiss, or a moan of lust, then they shall part in a scream of agony. The goal is the same, ultimately, as is the prize.

"I ask for so little...," I brush the hair out of his face, the better to gaze into his downcast eyes. "Just fear me...," his brows twitch almost invisibly and I sense him consciously blanking his mind as he gazes past me, "...love me...," I grab great handfuls of his thick tangled hair and hold his head in place while covering his mouth with mine, leaving shimmering warm wetness on line-thin lips, "... do as I say...," I yank at his hair with one hand while massaging his slowly firming length with my other, insistently rubbing away the last of his iron control. Oh no, stranger. Tonight your body shall be mine, and your mind shall be Obi's, and all shall be well with us. I shall make you enjoy this, even if it takes pain. I shall make you enjoy the pain even, and then give you to Obi and me to you in the rapture the Three-Moons Night demands and needs... "...and I will be your slave."

That stiffness cannot be tolerated, stranger. For one thing, you are too damn beautiful with your muscles all straining and corded like this. I trail my fingertips up your thighs, over your delicious slender hips, your taut hard abdomen, that wide smooth chest, the soft vulnerable neck, the proud bearded chin... oh, how your lips would feel, parting for me wantonly... you turn your head away with a jerk, wincing as the strap around your throat holds you back. I leave my fingers where they are, then slowly let them slide back to where they came from, fingernails this time, leaving pale pink trails on your gorgeous skin, down all the way to your groin, under the loosened loincloth and up your half-erect cock, scraping trails of gentle pleasure and pain. The shudder that wracks your body is most satisfactory.

So you like _that_. Suits me.

I tear off the last scrap of cloth from your amazing body, and leave you naked and exposed while I run to the house to supply what I will need. Obi forgive me, I run. Can't wait for another second, the Goddess' desire having become my own. This one _will_ be mine by pleasure or by pain, moaning in lust or agony. Mine.

I return with nothing but a ragged coil of thin sinew string in my fist, and tease him by keeping it behind my back until I've rounded the tree and positioned myself behind _his_ back. He cannot see what I am doing, and I regret that I cannot see his reaction as I start my work. Doubtless he is surprised, puzzled, maybe a little scared as he feels me winding the thin string around his fingertips, weaving them together, one finger to the next, one hand to the other, a fine webwork to complement the coarse firm leather bonds. He has beautiful hands, large and strong, with long blunt fingers that would feel so perfect... uh, there. Everywhere. Let me entwine them first. Leave him wondering.

Not for long though. Leaving the twine lying on the ground behind the tree for a moment I come face to face with my beautiful captive. He still avoids my eyes, not even trying to stare me down. Let the dance begin. Gentleness and harshness in equal measures. Gentleness first.

I sink my hands in his thick tangled hair and relish the unconscious wave of pleasure rolling off him. He almost certainly did not mean for me to sense that, but I am oddly satisfied with the effect I seem to be having. Just to keep him on a plateau of dawning pleasure, I press my groin against his and grind ever so slowly while my hands tangle in his luxuriant hair, patiently singling out strands and braiding them, one on each side of his face. When I reach down to pick up the abandoned twine, I am more than pleased at the sight of his reluctant erection, thick and rosy and quite massive. The twine goes around the end of one of the braids, tied tightly, the long end trailing down his chest and stomach, brushing against a tiny brown nipple. Irresistible is what he is, and I take a good minute to worship that nipple, licking with the tip of my tongue, nipping ever so lightly until it is peaked to a hardness that begs me to bite it. I don't.

Instead, I pick up the trailing end of the twine, pull it taut, tie a loose knot in it and slowly place the tiny loop over the nipple, then tug until the sweet little nub is pinched tightly by the twine. I pull a little more, relish his sharp intake of breath, and follow the twine down, kissing along the slack end until I reach the tip of his cock. I squeeze a drop of clear fluid from the slit and lick it off with the tip of my tongue, then engulf the silky head with my mouth, slowly increasing the suction until he cannot help but moan and thrash, the involuntary movement causing the tight string to send slivers of pain through his bound nipple. Swamped by the twin sensations, and he still isn't meeting my eye. This calls for more. Swiftly, the twine wraps around his hardness, just under the head, crossing just there, on that softest spot on every man's body, creating a pressure point that melds agony and ecstasy into one. Pull tight, and up towards the other nipple, which is hard already, tie around, and secure the loose end to the other braid in his hair.

I take a step back to admire the view. A taut V of pleasure and pain spans his gorgeous body, waiting to be activated by the slightest movement. Mine. My voice is uncannily husky... "You will be mine, whether you comply or not. And I can assure you I am yours already!" I fall at his feet and catch a slight ripple of surprise from behind muddled shields. The glow The Seeing has shown me has increased, if anything, and I reverently lick his toes before weaving them together as I had done with his fingers, then trail the taut twine up his leg, around the base of his bound-up cock, around his heavy warm balls, twice, separating them in a tight cradle of string, then back up around his straining tethered hardness and down to the other foot to be secured tightly. Perfect symmetry.

I lean in and cover his mouth in a casual kiss, pleased at how much his guard has weakened. These lips are almost pliant now, and I could tease them open if I wanted. I will give him time. There is a lot of pleasure and pain to be got out of this one yet. This one, thank my Goddess, will be a pleasure to break.

Oh Force. This feels... I cannot think straight. Crooked is how I think ­ the straight way would have been heroic stoicism, serenity in the face of such humiliation, as I've had it drummed into me since I was an initiate. Force bless, I believed it. Believed that... this... spit it out, Jinn. That lust wins out over pain, laces it with a pleasure I was sure should not exist. Just... flex your back slightly, Jinn. Ah. Damn he's good at this... tense fiery lines of touch and pull and pinch, constricting and caressing. Holding. Needle-sharp points of touch, winding around my fingertips, nipples, toes. The sensitive skin I never knew I had until I stubbed my toes or burned my fingertips on overheated and malfunctioning engines. And now... this is not mere pain. This is... a caress. One that goes deeper than fingertips, deeper than nipples. Never mind the state my cock is in, strung up an angry heavy red that sends throbbing echoes behind my lids every time I close my eyes...

Because I cannot bear the sight. My tormentor... serenity escapes me completely. I might have been able to put my upbringing to good use on the bonds and shielding the wicked after-effects of the drug if it had just been an anonymous tormentor, but... well, Jinn, you've just proven to yourself you can't think straight anymore. He is anonymous strictly speaking, you've never heard anyone mention his name. And yet... I shake my head, shuddering from the tug on my hard nipples, the very shudder sending spikes of rippling pain through my hard cock... it is... him. I am not sure how much longer I can resist, and worse still, I am no longer sure why I should. The Force is silent, the clay wall broken but the darkness behind it is as opaque as if it were still here. Velvet darkness. Silence. Intense blue eyes, wickedly agile hands, that lithe young body, all gold and flesh. And the way that mouth felt... shameful, Jinn, but you know you would tolerate any amount of pain to feel that mouth on yours again.

Tolerate. Who are you fooling. Relish, more like. At these hands, anything can be rapture, and to my own surprise I am perfectly willing to ride this out. Pretty scary for a first-time revelation, but there you go. The Force moves in mysterious ways I guess. And my tormentor... he moves in ways that can only be described as... luscious. Just that slightly overlong loincloth around his hips and a bright blue feather dangling from a little braid behind his ear, in earnest travesty of a Padawan braid. Oh, wish he were mine... what did he say? 'Do as I say, and I will be your slave?'

Say, Master.

I wipe my hands on the front flap of my loincloth, ridding myself of the last dirt of the storage pit under the house. Could hardly get in there fast enough, and out again. No way am I going to take the time to warm the stuff to body temperature. My body temperature might just go through the roof if I tried. I haven't been this hot in all my life, burning for the moment I know will come when he will be mine, giving his gorgeous body over to me and my Goddess. Sweet possession.

His eyes are closed, whether in exhaustion or resignation I cannot tell. I find myself longing for these intense blue orbs, picturing the wild-eyed stare of this man in rapture. He does not see me putting the bowl of honey down at his feet, does not share with me the sight of the clear golden fluid lazily dripping off my fingers as I dip them in. Cool lush stickiness coats my fingers, gluing them together, slowing down all motion. I will myself to slowness as I reach up for his red bound-up hardness, now flush against his taut stomach and so impressive I am glad of the lavish supplies of honey these woods offer.

The satiny skin of his cock drags in a most interesting and sensuous fashion as I trail my sticky fingers along the length, leaving a glistening trail along the underside. A voiceless breathless moan seems to tell me the one thing I want to hear. More. And more you will get, beautiful headstrong stranger. I dip my whole hand in the honey and grab his cock in my fist, thoroughly slicking him with rough strokes, pulling and dragging on the sensitised flushed skin, drawing moans that could be pleasure or pain. I dribble the sweet honey all over his erection, liberally coating the smooth hot head, mingling honey and pre-cum and licking the enticing mixture off my middle finger. Yum.

Now for the second part.

A banana leaf is easily found, as is the old spot I have known since I was a child. They never seem to move much, trusting their cities to attract the sort of conveniences their state needs. They protest a little as I scoop up an entire borough on the leaf, I can sense their disturbance through The Seeing. Good. They'll be in for a treat in return for this little service.

They are most perceptive. Seconds after I'd laid down the banana leaf at my captive's feet, the first of the ants begin to scout for a viable path to the honey-scented bounty they sense overhead, and before long a small but steady trail has formed, winding all the way up his long legs, homing in on his honey-slick cock to feed. He is trying hard not to react, I can feel it. See it. One fevered glance from these eyes, then he's clenched them shut again, as if afraid to let a glimmer of lust show when his entire body speaks of how much he is enjoying his aroused state. He shall be mine yet, and if he will not see then he will feel. His proud jutting cock is covered in millions of tiny black bodies now, feeding greedily, tickling him exquisitely. His quickened breath is verging on moans now, delicious on the brink of pleasure, afraid to move for fear of pain.

I pluck a blade of grass and trail it along his ant-covered hardness, teasing the greedy insects. As is to be expected, they defend their boon to the last, shooting their little acid loads at me, at each other, but most importantly, at my beautiful captive's flesh. His breathing grows more ragged as he begins to realise the cause of that burning feeling. Oh, it must be exquisite torture, every bite heightening his arousal, pumping more blood into his already painfully swollen cock, inflaming his tender skin... and yes, yes he is reacting now. Jerking and thrashing, fire ants and twine creating a feedback loop of pleasurable pain that drives him into a frenzy of struggling and writhing. Oh, the sight of him now... long graceful body convulsed in spasms of joy and agony, hair everywhere, mouth open in an attempt at breath, and all that comes out is moans, deep throaty moans and screams, and yes there are tears in the corners of his eyes, and one of them rolls down his cheek and disappears in his beard and it's so beautiful I want to trace that shimmering trail with my lips, oh just to kiss this man in all his proud agony... but he is close now, close to being mine. Obi will be proud.

I fold the blade of grass several times and scrape the ants off him, goading them into one last attack before they are forced to leave their pasture. Oh, they have worked wonders. He was hard and red before... now he's positively adamantine, and so throbbing full of lust that I am sure the tiniest touch would draw blood, or more, from him. I could... without bothering to finish the thought, I draw my flintstone knife from its sheath and prick a tiny little mark in the straining skin of his cock. A ruby red bead of blood erupts at the same times as an almighty roar from above me. Yes, beautiful, inside as well as out. I watch, mesmerised, as the drop of blood makes its way down, rolling to the base of the proud erection and disappearing amongst the light hairs on his balls. Time for release.

"Victim mine, sacrifice yourself to Obi the Goddess and Wan-Ken the Goddess' Chosen One. Give yourself to me, and I shall be yours." I cut the twine that binds his cock, and it snaps away under the unbearable tension. I lean in close to his ear and whisper, "Come for me."

Oh, and he does, convulsing in rapture, writhing and squirming in his bonds, shooting a thin arc of joy into the air, thrashing his head about so much that he tears one nipple free from the loop around it and lets his head drop to one side, throat deliciously exposed. Now. I crush myself against him, sinking my teeth in his tender flesh, and he is too spent and hoarse to shout, all I hear is a ragged moan as I bite a passionate red mark into his pale skin, and before I know it my mouth is on his, devouring, a feeding frenzy of lust, and oh Obi he's letting me in!! Not only that, but... sucking, licking... kissing all sensible thought out of me with a passion I hardly dared dream of. The Seeing goes blind with the white light emanating from his mind, and my hands cut away blindly at the bonds, knife guided by sensation alone, until he is free from all bonds but one, there where he is still attached to my lips. Mine.

I push him against the tree roughly, trailing my mouth down his sweat-salty body until I reach his still half-hard cock, glistening and red and inviting. A tentative lick... and oh, the mixture of sweet and sour is just too delicious. Tender, gorgeous meat. I suck him into me, feeling his slick silken warmth fill my mouth and his own salty flavour mingling with the sweetness of the honey, laced with the acid the ants have left. He is rapidly firming again, swelling in my throat as I take him in as deeply as I can and he moans so sweetly now, all relaxed and warm and impatient for another release. Teasing, I let my still sticky hand drift to his opening, circling the tiny ring of muscle with a honeyed finger, dragging it over the silky skin, then pushing in a tiny bit. There is no resistance as such, just warm welcoming tightness and heat. Too much. Too much for just a finger...

Lightning quick, I jump up and throw him to the ground, pinning him under me, covering his massive strong body with mine. He lets me get away with it, no doubt. He would be stronger than me normally. He is doing this because he... wants it. Wants me. Wants to be mine, in all respects. I can feel it humming again, the same loud harmonious hum that The Seeing carried when it told me of the Great Animal I would hunt down. Little did I know then... that that Great Animal would be lying underneath me, panting and begging, and that I would reach behind me and... drizzle honey all over his ass and between those firm lush cheeks and work my fingers in and out of him ever so gently until he thrusts his hips up, demanding more, and I slick my raging erection with breathless speed and plunge into him and he yells as I hit his hot spot and comes into my hand and I grab hold of his broad shoulders with my other hand and slam into him, hard, possessive, taking and taken, possessed by the Goddess and obsessed with this divine man, and the fever-dream of Initiation is nothing compared to this as images erupt within me that never in my life came from my own mind and flood me with sensation and intensity and sheer pulsing _life_ as I collapse breathlessly on to my captive's back in a shower of stars, bright spikes of pleasure so intense it is almost painful.

I must have blacked out... for when I awake, I am cradled in the arms of the man I had taken captive, and he holds me as his, and I am his.

"Wan-Ken?" I start at the mention of my name, and relax an instant later as I realise that soft deep voice is my capt... lover's. Yes. I had said my name of course. And I must have stared into him so deeply for an instant that he breaks into a wide grin, lays one huge hand flat on his chest and rumbles, "Qui-Gon Jinn. Tell me, Wan-Ken, have you ever heard of a people called the Jedi?"

I shake my head, rubbing my short hair against his broad chest while he plays with the braid I have worn since my Initiation. I can sense a thought forming in him, and I know he senses me sensing it. It is... I have no words to describe what this union between us is. "Words," comes the soft rumble again, "are but messengers lost in the woods, Wan-Ken. Let me save up my words for when I will have need of them, Padawan mine."

"Padawan?" I am unsure what the word means, but quite certain what he means. What Qui-Gon means. And it is good.

"It will take a good few myriads of words to convince even the Low Council at Regat to allow you into the Order as my Padawan, or indeed anyone's Padawan, at your age. Not to mention the High Council on Coruscant." He smirks knowingly, and I cannot help but laugh in sympathy, the pure warmth of his feeling travelling along some unseen bond between us, filling my Seeing with his and his with mine, a sensation so powerful it drives me to tears.

"The... Seeing..." I squeeze out between storms of laughter and tears, "the... the Force?..." I taste the unfamiliar word for the familiar sensation...

"Is with us."

--- The End ---