Help Me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, You're My Only Ho - cont'd
(continued from part 18)
Bail Organa wandered around the rooms that were about to be occupied by his paid paramour, rearranging pillows and checking his appearance in the mirror. Nearly an hour had passed since Kenobi had commed and Bail was getting impatient.
So much time and effort had gone into his arrangements for Kenobi's comfort. The rooms had been expertly decorated with sensual decadence in mind. From the wine-red synthsilk linen to subtle lighting -- he had personally requested recessed, indirect lighting in every room, requiring extensive re-wiring -- to the textured wall coverings, every inch of the place promised tactile delights.
Changing the furniture had been the easy part. The adequate but uninteresting sofa had been replaced by a series of modeled lounges, both comfortable for sitting and designed to support various sexual positions. He'd even paid extra for the ones with hidden attachments for those with more developed tastes in sexual play. Bail knew Kenobi would be pleased.
For the fiftieth time in an hour, he stared at his reflection in the bedroom's newly mirrored wall. He had never worn anything so form-fitting, so deliberately sexual and fierce. The tight leather hugged his lean form, and the dark color accentuated his naturally bronze skin tone.
Bail crossed to a dark cabinet and opened the wooden doors to reveal a variety of implements he had supposed Kenobi would find useful in his work. He selected a short-handled flogger and slapped it against his leather-clad thigh, just to hear the sound it made. Catching sight of himself in the reflective wall, he took the opportunity to pose.
He wondered if Kenobi knew how lucky he was to have such a generous benefactor. It would have been months before the courtesan could have afforded the caliber of decorators and designers he had hired (through a dummy corporation and through other intermediaries -- obviously he could not afford to be connected personally with such an enterprise).
Placing the flogger back in the cabinet, he stalked to the common room and opened the wine -- a special vintage from Alderaan. Not the most expensive, though he doubted Kenobi would notice in his excitement to see what Bail had done with the place.
Yes, he felt certain Kenobi would be very grateful. So certain, in fact, that he had asked his secretary to clear his agenda for the next day, claiming illness. He had never taken a sick day in all his time serving the Galactic Senate; they could spare him for a day.
He poured himself a glass and set about finding the right place to sit to make the most impressive sight when Kenobi finally arrived. The dark leather stood out against the white upholstery. Bail put his feet up, crossing his legs at the ankle and resting his arms along the side. He leaned back a little, wanting to look relaxed, but not slouchy. That maneuver almost tipped his wine glass over, giving him pause to wonder if white had really been the best choice of upholstery for lounges designed to facilitate deviant sex acts.
Ah, well. What was done was done.
He had finished his wine and was about to pour himself another glass when he finally heard the door being activated from the public entrance. Of course Kenobi was too clever to direct a taxi to the secluded private speeder port. He must have got off the public transport at the main entrance and come up through the lift.
Bail quickly filled his own glass and one for Kenobi, set them on the low table beside the lounge and affected a relaxed pose. He hoped he looked convincingly nonchalant when the door opened.
Kenobi, for his part, seemed genuinely surprised to find Bail there. He paused in the shadows of the entranceway, rucksack still slung over his shoulder. He did not appear to be dressed to entertain.
Bail stood and spread his arms expansively. "Welcome to your new home, Obi-Wan."
"It's good to see you, Senator." Kenobi's greeting sounded warm enough, though Bail could see little of his expression in the dim lighting. "I see you brought wine."
The very sound of those cultured tones sent a shiver of anticipation through Bail. He picked up the other wine glass and stalked forward to give it to Kenobi. "I know you must have had a long day and I'm sure you'd like to freshen up, but I thought we might have a glass to celebrate first."
"How very kind of you." Kenobi stepped forward to receive the glass, letting his rucksack fall to the floor behind him.
"Do you like what I've done with the place? I hired the very best designers on Coruscant." Bail took Kenobi's arm and led him forward to better see the change of décor. "Spared no expense."
Kenobi paused to sip his wine, taking everything in. "It's very. . . lavish."
Bail could tell from Kenobi's tone that he was overcome. He turned to accept the kiss of gratitude he knew was coming, but stopped short when he got a look at Kenobi's face in the light of the common room.
"Little gods! What happened to your face?"
Kenobi ducked his head to the side and pressed his scabbed lips together. "It was nothing, really. I had an issue with a door in my quarters at the Temple."
"An issue with a door?" Bail did not even attempt to hide his incredulity. "At the Temple?"
"It wouldn't open when I needed it to," he said.
Bail waited, but Kenobi added nothing more.
"The Jedi Temple is the safest place on Coruscant, and you managed to injure yourself on a door?" Bail chuckled.
"It was rather careless of me." Kenobi grinned, somewhat abashed.
"There, there," Bail said, tugging off Kenobi's traveling cloak and reaching for the scarf around his neck. "A little time in the ‘fresher and you'll feel as good as new."
Kenobi caught his hands. "I can do that myself."
But Bail had already seen a glimpse of the livid swellings on his neck. Four indistinct blotches to the left, one to the right. Like a humanoid grip.
"Did this door have a name?" Bail knew his tone had become sharp, but he didn't care. Kenobi had been up to something today, perhaps he had stopped off somewhere on his way from the Temple. It made him less attractive, somehow. The thought of sleeping with a whore used by some street ruffians. . .
"It's not what you think." Kenobi put his hand over his throat, hiding the marks.
"I suppose it doesn't matter what I think," Bail said dismissively. "But I believe I deserve to know if you should be tested for disease before we go any farther."
"I didn't fuck the door." Kenobi pulled away from him, a spark of anger glowing from his swollen eyes. "Though I imagine there are a few nearby that would be better company at the moment than you, Senator."
"Is that how it is, then?" Bail let his anger show, though he was too much the aristocrat to raise his voice. "Perhaps you'd like to find lodgings elsewhere, if my company is so abhorrent to you."
Bail did not expect the reaction this elicited from Kenobi - a harsh bark of laughter.
"I should have known," Kenobi said as he turned and picked up his pack, preparing to leave.
"Wait!" Bail moved to stand in his way, suddenly feeling quite ashamed of himself. He had put too much effort into creating this place for them to let it end before it had begun. "I see that we each had rather different expectations for your first night here. Clearly you have had a difficult day, and are not at your best at the moment. Stay, get cleaned up. I'll see that there's food." Bail glanced down at his hands, clenched together to stop them trembling. "If you like I will leave. I could come back in a day or two when you have recovered, or we could watch a vid together or just talk a bit before I go."
"That's very kind of you," Kenobi said. He looked as if he were about to refuse.
"I have a data pad here with your lease information. Once you give your authorization, no one can force you out of here for six months, not even me." Bail placed his hands on Kenobi's shoulders, gently. "I should not have made such an idle threat. You have no idea what you do to me, Kenobi. No idea at all."
Kenobi regarded him wordlessly for a moment. Bail held his breath until the other man nodded.
"'Fresher, food and a vid, then?" Kenobi grinned at him, still very charming despite the bruises. Bail smiled back.
"The food is here, I just need to warm it," he said. "It's from a little Alderaani place in the mid-levels. Not much ambiance, but the food is top notch."
"Sounds lovely." Kenobi flashed a subdued grin as he made his way toward the ‘fresher with his pack. Bail set about putting the food to rights.
Once he had it in the warming unit, he followed Kenobi through the open bedroom door.
"I forgot to ask your preference on the vid," Bail said. "Drama, action, or romance?"
Kenobi seemed to have no problems undressing in his presence, which gave Bail a certain amount of hope that there might be more than a vid in store for him tonight.
"Action," Kenobi answered as he stepped into the swirling steam of the ‘fresher. "Definitely action."
The vid image of Finis Valorum looked at Qui-Gon with patient compassion as he paused a moment before answering the Jedi Master's query. "I'm sorry, Qui-Gon -- truly I am -- but I honestly have no way of knowing who might have made arrangements with Kenobi at the gala. I certainly didn't notice anyone."
"Surely there must be some security vids of various areas around the hall where the gala was held." Qui-Gon managed to keep his calm Jedi facade in place, but he felt certain his friend could see through it to the naked trembling of his wounded heart.
"Qui-Gon, please let this go," Finis said. The compassion written on his face was painful for Qui-Gon to see. It spoke of a mind made up, of a foregone presumption of what had transpired between himself and Kenobi.
"I can't, Finis. I simply..." Qui-Gon shook his head, knowing he could never explain to his old friend what Kenobi meant to him. Finis saw only a friend who had fallen into a trap all too common for those his age, and Qui-Gon knew that no protestation on his part would change his mind on that score. "No."
"I could not call myself your friend if I did not advise you against this," Finis said.
Qui-Gon would not allow himself to be drawn into a discussion of his motives. That would only waste valuable time. "Will you grant me access to the security vids from the gala?"
Valorum sighed. "I can arrange it, I suppose. And for the sake of all you have done for me in the past, I will. But you must know that I will not assist you in this mad, self-destructive quest of yours. I know the boy was quite lovely, but he made his choice, my friend. I think it will spare you pain in the long run if you accept that now."
"I appreciate your concern," Qui-Gon said, as gently as he could manage. "How soon may I see the vids?"
Valorum pressed his lips together, letting a deep breath out through his nose. "I'll have my assistant begin collecting them. There will be a lot, I warn you. Going through them will take considerable time and more than likely you'll still have nothing."
"Thank you, Finis." Qui-Gon let the earnest gratitude he felt seep into his voice. "I won't ask you for anything like this again."
Valorum nodded. "See that you don't. Good luck." His tone implied that Qui-Gon would need more than luck to find and identify the man who had an assignation with Obi-Wan the night of the gala.
"May the Force be with you," Qui-Gon said just before Finis broke the connection. The words sounded hollow.
Perhaps it was not the will of the Force for him to find Kenobi, but Qui-Gon was currently incapable of doing anything except looking for his lover. He'd been a fool. Kenobi's departure had been entirely his fault.
What else could Obi-Wan be expected to do? Qui-Gon had as much as called him a liar when Obi-Wan had accused Xanatos, and that came right on the heels of so many questions Kenobi had about his parentage. Qui-Gon should have been open with him from the beginning. Finding out that Orima Durante -- a man Kenobi had serviced more than a few times on Iptura -- might be his father was bad enough without the knowledge that Qui-Gon had known of the possibility and kept it from him.
All Kenobi had really needed was reassurance that Qui-Gon valued him, that he respected him enough to be honest with him.
When Qui-Gon closed his eyes, all he could see was the open, enthusiastic man he had grown to love turn away from him. Obi-Wan didn't know who to believe, and Qui-Gon's refusal to accept what Xanatos had done...
Qui-Gon pounded his fist on the comdesk. This self-recrimination did not help the matter at hand. He had to find Obi-Wan.
He had spent the first hour studying the transport routes, but soon gave that up as a lost cause. Obi-Wan was certain to be somewhere in the Senate district. He'd been at the Senate Complex all morning, and Qui-Gon felt certain that was where he had gotten the comlink and stimsticks. If only Knight Chun were awake and able to tell Qui-Gon who Obi-Wan had seen and spoken to while his testimony was recorded.
Qui-Gon had already gotten remote access to the recordings attached to the affidavit, but none of them showed anyone besides Obi-Wan. The mid-level functionary who had handled the process had not been at the gala. Plus, the meager pay grade of such Senate complex employees made it unlikely that the interviewer could have promised Obi-Wan a set of rooms in exchange for his favors.
His heart did a long, slow flip as he remembered that night when Obi-Wan came in by the balcony door, walking stiffly and smelling of hasty sex. He's gone back into the arms of a man who misused him. Qui-Gon pushed the thought away, knowing that it would only make him more impatient to find his lover. Before he gave himself to someone else.
No. If he rushed through his search, it could make him sloppy. He could not afford to miss something.
Having exhausted all his options for immediate search (aside from wandering through the Senate District shouting for him, which appealed to Qui-Gon more as penance than for its potential effectiveness), Qui-Gon knew he should try to rest. It was late and would likely be hours before the first of the security vids became available to him.
With all the nervous energy coursing through him at the moment, he knew better than to even try to sleep, so he attempted a meditation. Clearing his mind proved a difficult task -- more difficult than it had been since his initiate days.
Oh, sweet Force. Guide me. Show me the way to find him. Help me. Please.
Duly chastened by the threat of losing his new-found sexual outlet, Bail conducted himself in as courtly a manner toward Kenobi as he had ever adopted with the frigid young virgins with whom he'd socialized with perforce in his crown prince days on Alderaan. This surprised him somewhat, given how large the courtesan had loomed in his mind since the night of the gala and the long-denied pleasures it had held.
They chatted as they ate, and watched the vid together in companionable silence. Bail's breath caught in his throat when Kenobi had fiddled with the cushions, finally situating himself in a way he found comfortable. His left foot grazed Bail's thigh in the process, making him instantly and insistently hard.
Kenobi must've noticed the flush of arousal on Bail's cheeks, or the way subtle way his breathing changed. Halfway through the vid, he felt the courtesan looking at him. It was embarrassing to be as randy as a youth, so obviously affected by such slight contact, but Bail could not help himself.
Perhaps Kenobi hadn't noticed at all, and was not watching him. Obi-Wan had had a difficult day and although he refused to talk about it, Bail was determined not to rush him into anything. There would be time enough for that when Kenobi felt better, though Bail couldn't help fantasizing. It wasn't as if he had come here expecting to eat take-out and watch a vid with a friend.
Bail glanced over and realized he had not imagined Kenobi's regard. Changeable eyes met his own, and a moment passed between them that made Bail's mouth go dry. In the half-light of the vid, the bruises were hardly visible at all, except for the dark scabs on Kenobi's lips. He turned back to the vid.
"You've been really anxious to see me, haven't you?" Kenobi's voice, low and cultured, brought to Bail's mind the last time the two of them had been in these very rooms.
"Yes," Bail answered. "But it's okay."
"No," Kenobi said, sliding closer. "It's not. I've had a difficult day, but I do appreciate everything you've done for me."
"Good." Bail smiled. He reached over and touched Kenobi's hair, letting his thumb brush gently across his smooth cheek. "Your poor lips. How long do you think before they heal?"
Kenobi turned his head slightly to nibble Bail's thumb. "With the bacta spray I've been using, maybe by tomorrow. They don't hurt anymore."
Kenobi ran his tongue along the edge of his lips, testing the small cuts. Bail let out a moan at the sight.
He didn't make a move toward Kenobi, but it took all his will. He was determined not to force the issue, even if Kenobi seemed somewhat more receptive than he had when he first arrived. "Have you any idea what you do to me?"
"Some," Kenobi said, with the faintest of smiles. He reached for Bail with both hands, running them smoothly over his torso. "Plus a few ideas about what I could do to you."
Before Bail knew what was happening, Kenobi was straddling his lap. The pressure on his groin was at once delicious and excruciating.
"I've seen lounges like these before, you know." Kenobi leaned in to whisper in his ear. "I know the secrets they hold."
The sounds coming from Bail's throat might have shamed him if he still had any grasp of decorum, but as it was he had been suddenly transformed into an inarticulate mass. He finally managed to speak with something approaching coherency. "I thought they might prove... useful to you."
"Yes," Kenobi agreed, hands resting on the cushions above Bail's shoulders. "I'm curious, though, as to how you had envisioned I'd make use of them with you."
Bail heard the hidden compartments open, and didn't resist as Kenobi took him by the hand. Very slowly, Kenobi lifted Bail's hand and bound his wrist above his head. Bail didn't resist -- he hadn't the will. Kenobi had seen into the dark desires he had been unable to articulate, and was about to make them real.
By the time Kenobi had secured the other wrist, Bail was panting so hard that his breath stirred Kenobi's hair. "Please," he whispered.
"Please?" Kenobi smiled wryly. "Please what?"
"Please..." Bail felt himself slipping away into his fantasy, the one Jase had refused to fulfill, and one Kenobi had so expertly discerned. "Please... Master. Do as you like, but please don't make me wait!"
Kenobi leaned back, still smiling. "That's awfully presumptuous of you. What sort of Master am I, if I take orders from the likes of you?"
"Forgive me, Master." It occurred to Bail that perhaps he should clarify his fantasy somewhat. "I am your willing slave," he added helpfully.
Kenobi moved off his lap and turned away. Bail thought he heard a stifled chuckle, but when the courtesan faced him again, he was the image of a stern slave master.
"Willing, perhaps." A trace of cold superiority made its way into Kenobi's tone, just enough to make Bail squirm. "But very ill-behaved. How do you think I should punish such behavior?"
With those words Kenobi ran a finger down his chest, eyes narrowed in a semblance of disdain.
Bail found it hard to catch his breath to respond; lightheadedness and lust made it difficult to think, but Kenobi needed to know what exactly he wanted. Bail didn't want to break the fantasy, so he merely cast a meaningful look toward the cabinet that held certain toys, knowing almost any one of them would do nicely.
Kenobi sauntered over to the cabinet and opened it. Casting Bail a smug glance, he chose a short, many-tailed flogger -- the very one Bail had handled so lovingly earlier -- and a few other things that he deliberately hid from Bail's view.
"First, I think you should definitely lose the privilege of clothing." Kenobi leaned over and released his hands from their bindings.
"Strip," he said. "Be quick about it."
Bail obeyed in a haze of lust, grateful he'd had the foresight not to wear anything too complicated. He discarded his clothing and stood before Kenobi, watching his face for a reaction. Bail knew he was attractive, but he wanted to know that Kenobi appreciated all he had to offer.
Kenobi smiled, but spoke rather haughtily. "Awfully proud, for a slave."
"I'm sorry, Master." Bail fell to his knees, head lowered, and crawled closer to Kenobi. When he reached Kenobi's boot, he knelt to kiss them. "May I serve you?"
"You have not earned that privilege," Kenobi said coldly. Bail peeked up at him and saw that his brows were knit in a frown. "You are far too bold, to look at your master so freely."
Bail lowered his gaze quickly. "I have much to learn, Master."
"I will help you, then."
Kenobi's feet disappeared from Bail's view as he walked around behind him. Bail tensed, wondering for a moment whether Kenobi understood his wishes as far as his nether regions were concerned. He need not have worried; soon he felt the cool cloth of a blindfold cover his eyes.
"This will help you focus more on your body, slave. Perhaps it will help to better please me." The words whispered in Bail's ear made him shudder with anticipation. Kenobi's warm hand touched his back, urging him up to the sofa. Gentle hands positioned him lengthwise, crouched on his knees on the cushions. Then Kenobi grasped his wrists and pulled them toward the edge and another set of restraints.
"Very good," Kenobi cooed as Bail allowed himself to be bound again. When that was done, Kenobi asked, "Can I trust you to hold your tongue, or do you need a gag?"
Bail didn't like the idea of a gag, so he promised to be quiet. He hadn't really anticipated how difficult that might be until the first blow fell.
"OW!" Bail jerked at his restraints, reflexively attempting to cover his tender backside. That had really stung. He was better prepared for the next blow, which fell in a different place, but still smarted more than he had anticipated. Kenobi did a fair job spreading out the blows, but Bail couldn't keep himself from struggling to get away.
Soon enough he was sweating and had lost his arousal to the increasing discomfort in his thighs, buttocks and back. For a time he let himself drift in the experience, imagining that this was his punishment for his deviance. The pain transported Bail back to the palace on Aldaraan, and the punishments he suffered as a youth before he learned to hide his true nature from his father.
Slowly, he came back to himself; the blindfold had been removed and the tears ran freely. Bail heard his own voice muttering, on shallow, hitched breaths. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Father. I'm so sorry..."
"Shhh, it's all right," Kenobi whispered, stroking his hair. "You were very brave. It's all right."
"Thank you," Bail said softly. His hands were free now, and he lay huddled across Kenobi's lap. Gradually he regained control, and his breathing and heartbeat slowed to normal. "Thank you, Master."
"You've been such a good boy." Kenobi still stroked Bail's hair, but he spoke with a little more authority in his tone. "I believe you deserve a reward."
"If that is your wish, Master." Bail's voice sounded weak to his ears. He felt empty. Spent. Too weak for arousal, as if Kenobi's punishment had worked in a way his father's had not, finally putting an end to his deviance.
He allowed Kenobi to lift him and turn him onto his back. The smooth upholstery of the sofa felt rough to his sensitized skin, but it was not painful. He tingled all over in a peaceful haze, feeling more calm and relaxed than he had in ages.
Bail thought he could drift off into peaceful sleep, even as he was, lying upon a sofa built to accommodate many urges other than the ones he had been indulging. Then he felt the heat and moisture of Kenobi's mouth on him, licking and stroking him to life as expertly as ever.
"Oh, gods," Bail moaned as the last of his tears trickled from the corners of his eyes, wetting his hair. The beast inside had not left him--it had only been sated for a while. He could not bring himself to look at Kenobi, even as his body began to push mindlessly into the tight suction his mouth afforded.
Not so very far away, the newly elected Chancellor of the Galactic Senate smiled, watching the vid feed from hidden devices in Senator Organa's playroom. The young Senator was his, though he didn't know it yet. Alderaan would be a powerful ally, now that he held the young Senator's future in his hands. The way he begged his father's forgiveness! That was better than he could have hoped for -- simply too delicious for words.
A dry chuckle rattled through his throat as he watched the skilled pleasure worker, Kenobi, ply his trade. He had certainly handled that fatuous young Alderaani with unusual insight and ease.
Kenobi was Force-sensitive after all. To think that that idiot Durante had wanted to waste that beautiful body on kleranom larvae! He could be much more useful in other ways, if properly handled. Even if things did not go as Palpatine hoped they would, he could still find use for whatever was left.
The exact method for achieving this new little wrinkle in his plans had already revealed itself. It would be surprisingly easy to ensnare Kenobi, even as he had the courtesan Essa years ago. Yes, he had been too focused on his plans for taking out the Jedi to indulge in such pursuits for some time.
Now everything was in place, the final pieces moved in exactly the manner he had foreseen. He could afford a little diversion. He watched as the young whore finished with the Senator, who seemed to fall asleep as soon as his lust was quenched. Kenobi spread a blanket over him and went to his sleep chamber.
Palpatine switched to a different feed to watch his evening ablutions. Afterward, Kenobi lay awake in his new bed, staring into space. Suddenly his calm broke and he curled into a tight ball, looking quite small and insignificant in the large bed.
As he watched Kenobi's shoulders twitch with quiet sobs, the Chancellor smiled. Nothing pleased him more than the suffering of a Force-sensitive, though one trained to endure intimate tortures would pose certain special challenges for what he had in mind.
Whether the result would be useful in the context of his master plan remained to be seen. The kleranoms could wait long enough for the Chancellor to have some fun, at least.
Part 20
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