Master Apprentice
Archive
None So Innocent
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It was getting really bad in the filthy little brothel. I'd been here --- ghods, forever, it seemed, though in reality it had only been a few months --- always tied down and used in whatever fashion the paying customers wanted. Only now . . . now, things had changed. Instead of just fucking me, they were torturing me, as well.
Of course, I knew the owner wasn't happy with me, so I guess in a way I deserved whatever I got. I fought him constantly, even though he kept me doped up on something that made me nauseous and drained my strength. Despite the pain in my bleeding back and raw, torn anus, I grinned ferally. It still took three of his goons to strap me down each morning. And, when I was loose, none dared approach me until the pain collar around my neck was cranked up high enough to incapacitate me.
The future was looking pretty grim, though. I'd seen it happen to other slaves --- heard it, too, when their screams of pain kept escalating until finally they just stopped. After awhile, your usefulness just wore off, and the more sadistic customers were allowed a crack at you.
Oh, I'm sure they got charged more, for damaging the merchandise and all. Probably charged the really bad ones a small fortune for the privilege of finally torturing a slave to death.
I wasn't at that point yet. The serious beatings had only started a few days ago. Already, I was in constant pain, my back flayed and burned, a few of my fingers broken, and a really painful bite mark on my ass. It was going to get a lot worse, though. I could only hope that the end came soon.
Trying to hurry it along, just to end my own suffering finally, I tried to provoke each of the customers when they started in on me. I taunted them, called them every filthy name I'd ever heard and a few that I made up on the spot. I figured that if I could get them really mad, enraged even, they might just lose control and finish me off.
In a place like this, it was the best I could hope for.
It was late now, nearly closing time, I hoped. My back was on fire. The last customer was a real sick-o who favored a multi-lashed whip. I wanted nothing more than to be released from this dirty, bug-infested bed and to slink off into a corner somewhere to nurse the pain. Morning would come all too soon and it would start all over again. Ghods, I didn't know how I was going to survive this.
"Ssssorry," I heard the slimebag son-of-a-Hutt that owned the place say from somewhere near the front door. "Clossssing we are. Tomorrow you comesss back."
"This won't take but a few minutes," another voice said. This one was cultured and crisp, definitely human, and with a smug regalness that led me to believe the speaker was a first-class tight-ass. I disliked him instantly. "I'm interested in buying . . ."
"Tomorrow you comesss," Zintarry said. The jingle of credits silenced him.
"I will pay well if I find what I'm looking for," the stranger said.
Zintarry's demeanor immediately changed. "In you comesss! Welcome! Whatsss to buy you want?"
"A young human male," the man said. "About so tall." Presumably, he held up a hand then, but from my position I couldn't see him. "Attractive."
"Ah, many like that heresss," Zintarry said. I heard their footsteps crossing the room, going to the mannerly sluts, the ones who didn't have to be strapped down, first. He probably wouldn't even bring him near me and the other two immobiles. "Thisss one, a true treassssure it issss. Well broken in, obedientsss. You likesss?"
"Very nice," the stranger said. "But, not what I'm looking for. What about that one over there?"
"Another fine onesss," the Listerian hissed. "Pretty, too. Givesss good throat, thisss one doesss."
The stranger made a strangled sort of noise before he spoke again. "Yes, yes, I'm sure. But, he's too old. I want something younger."
"Youngerssss, hmm?" I heard Zintarry tapping his dirty hooked claws against his chest shield, a sound that made my back teeth hurt. "Youngersss one I have. Bad it isss, though. Fightsss. Looking are you for troublesss?"
"Perhaps. Show me."
Uh oh, the footsteps are definitely coming this way. I was going to have to make a quick decision here. If the guy looked even halfway decent, he could be my ticket out of here. On the other hand, things could always get worse. The guy could be looking for a pet of his own to torture. I would have to decide quick if I wanted him to buy me, and then I'd have to decide what to do to convince him. Did he want a fighter, someone he'd have to subdue? Or did he want a complacent, easy-to-handle pleasure slave? If so, seeing me strapped down like this wasn't going to reassure him.
The footsteps stopped near the foot of the bed, and I heard a sharp intake of breath from the stranger. "Why has he been whipped?" the cultured voice asked.
I could hear Zintarry's shoulder plates rustle as he shrugged. "Pleassssure of thisss kind a customer wantsss, sometimesss," he said, as if my pain was nothing more to him than an extra credit or two. Which, of course, was entirely correct.
"Well, release him so that I can see his face."
The Listerian clapped his bony hands together, and his three goons shuffled in. I made myself lie quietly, pretending to be cowed, as they leaned strongly on my arms and legs and released the restraints. I couldn't help a grimace of pain when they hauled me to my feet and turned me to face the stranger.
Oh, forces that be, this one looked like trouble! He was very tall and powerfully built, fierce and angry looking, with an air of authority about him. Despite the regal look he projected, he was dressed in simple clothes in various shades of brown and tan, topped off by a robe the color of rich caf. He had dark skin, even darker eyes, and a shaved head. His gaze went cold as he looked at me, and I foresaw an eternity of suffering and agony at his hands.
"Let go!" I screamed, making an instant decision to try to dissuade this imposing man from wanting me. A quick --- or not so quick --- death here in the brothel would be better than the long, drawn out demise this one probably intended. I began to struggle, as violently as my torn back would allow, against the three that held me. One of them twisted my arm up behind my back, pressing it tight against the bleeding gashes the whip had left, and clamped his huge hand over one of my broken fingers. The pain immobilized me, the world graying around the edges.
Meanwhile, Baldy stepped forward. One big, dark hand reached out to catch the unruly hair that fell across my face, using it to lift my head so he could get a better look at me. "What are these devices around his neck?" he asked.
"The thicksss one is his controlsss collar. Givesss pain when needsss. The thinsss gold one is special, for keepsss him from tricksss."
"Tricks?" Baldy said.
Zintarry waved one of his bony hands in the air. "Mind tricksss, such as thatsss. Worry don't aboutsss it. Safesss he is with collarsss."
Baldy nodded. He was still watching me, his gaze turning my blood to ice water. Unable to move, barely able to breathe around the agony the goons were causing me, I did the only thing I could think of --- I spit in his face.
That backed him off, all right. With a stifled curse, he released my hair, stepping back to drag a sleeve across his cheek. His gaze lifted then and bored into mine. "How much?" he asked, and I thought my heart would stop from the coldness in his voice alone.
"Valuable, thisss one," Zintarry said, and I silently urged him on. Price me too high, you moron, I encouraged, wishing I could send the thought straight into whatever his kind had that passed as a brain. Price me out of this one's reach and maybe he'll make some other poor slut into his personal fuck-and-torture toy. My hopes flared as he named a price, exorbitantly high.
The bald man waved a hand casually in the air in a gesture that seemed familiar somehow, even though I'd never seen it before. "I think half that amount would be sufficient," he said smoothly.
"Of courssse," Zintarry said almost as an afterthought, "halfsss that amount isss plenty."
I couldn't believe it! Zintarry, backing down on a price without even haggling? Something was going on here that I didn't understand.
"Done." Baldy pulled out a small purse and began to count out credits. Zintarry snatched them up like he was afraid the offer would be withdrawn.
"Goodsss choice, thisss one," he said. "I getsss it thingsss for you," he said as he shuffled away, quickly counting his coin again before dropping them into his belly pouch.
"What things?" Baldy asked.
"Collarsss control, drugsss, clothesss if wanted they are."
"Yes," the dark man said, eyeing me up and down as if disgusted by my nakedness. "Clothes would be good. But, what drugs are you talking about?"
"Comesss," Zintarry urged, motioning with one of his grotesquely long fingers for the stranger to follow him. "Showsss you everything. Your satisfaction I wantsss." He glanced back at the three thugs holding me and snapped out a word in his native tongue. I didn't understand him, but his minions obviously did, for clothes were brought and I was quickly dressed. They were stiff and dirty, and rubbed painfully across my injured back. Then, I was thrown face down on the bed and my hands cuffed behind me. Dirty nails scratched the back of my neck as a hand grabbed my pain collar and hauled me back to my feet. Zintarry and Baldy were just emerging from the back room.
"Yes, I understand how to administer the drugs," Baldy's shit-ass crisp voice said. "One more question. Where can I hire a healer?"
"Healersss two streetsss over," Zintarry said, pushing me toward the door, obviously anxious to get rid of me before the stranger changed his mind and demanded his money back. "Large building, whitesss, thermoplast wallsss. Not misss it, I thinksss."
"Thank you." The stranger's hand closed around my elbow, his grip tight but not excessively so. In his other hand was the box that controlled my pain collar. As long as his thumb hovered over that button, I wasn't going to be able to make a break for it. I knew only too well what pressing that button would do.
Without another word, I was pushed out the door and into a dark, cold night.
"Do you have a voice?" Baldy asked me once we were safely clear of the brothel doors.
Of course I do, stupid, I wanted to say. But, I held my tongue. This guy was trouble through and through, and I had no intention of making anything easy for him. He looked like the kind to really get off on someone else's pain. If I was obstinate enough, maybe he'd change his mind and resell me. Anyone, I was sure, would be better than him.
He seemed to take my silence as proof that I couldn't speak.
"Well," he said, "don't worry. Nothing bad is going to happen."
Yeah. Like I believe that.
"We've been looking for you for a long time. I've come to take you home."
That got my attention. Home? I had no idea where home was, or even if I'd ever had one.
"I know you've been brain-wiped, but that can be reversed, or so I'm told. And I'm going to hire a healer to treat your wounds before we leave the planet. My ship is small, but you should be comfortable there. Especially in light of where you've been." We turned a corner and he released my elbow, but he still held that damn controller at the ready. "I must ask that you not try to escape or to harm me in any way. I won't hurt you, but I will restrain you if that is necessary."
We stopped eventually in front of a white thermoplast building, and a thin, anemic looking Listerian female came to the door. Baldy spoke to her a moment in their native language, which surprised me. It's full of tongue-twisting syllables and hisses and wheezes. I've never heard a human even attempt to speak it. Maybe this man was more than he seemed, and that made him more dangerous yet.
After a few moments, the female left and a male arrived. He was taller than Zintarry, but slightly stooped with age, his ruddy color of his chest shields and body plates already fading. He carried with him a small bag, clutched tightly in his ugly long hands. With only a word or two of greeting, he followed my new owner and I wherever it was we were going.
Up ahead was the spaceport. I recognized it from the one time I had been 'loaned out' to a starship Captain, a coarse, smelly man with a collection of dildos and very little imagination. The grip on my elbow returned and tightened in warning as I tried to slow my pace, afraid of being trapped with this pretentious, dark-skinned demon building as we approached a small, two-man ship.
"Don't be afraid," he said, his words stirring the tangled hair on top of my head.
The ramp lowered, even though I never saw him reach for a controller. Probably has some sort of proximity device to trigger it, I realized. Okay, so he was a rich, pretentious demon. That could be even worse. Or better. He hadn't really paid all that much for me. If he was rich enough that the credits didn't matter to him, maybe my end would come sooner rather than later, with him not feeling such a need to get his money's worth out of me by torturing me for months on end.
Despite my intention to walk boldly to my fate, I panicked when we started up the ramp, trying to jerk out of his hold and break away for freedom. His finger brushed the controller button and my pain collar lit up like draigon's breath, tearing a cry from me before I could stop it.
"Don't resist," he warned, his voice hard and cold. "You're only hurting yourself."
For now, I thought. Soon enough, he'd be the one doing the hurting. Oh, ghods, I wasn't sure I was strong enough to face this. But, I had very little choice as he force-marched me up the ramp and into his tiny craft.
My eyes opened wide in wonder. It was magnificent! All shiny metal and deep blue carpeting. There were two bunks, I noticed, and a small food prep area. Ahead, through an open door, I could see the cockpit, its instruments gleaming and blinking softly.
Baldy shoved me toward one of the bunks and pushed me face down on it. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed that he had not closed the hatch. I kept very still as he uncuffed my wrists.
"Now," he said, "will you lie still for the healer or must you be held?"
I made myself relax, pretending compliance, anything to get him to let go of me. He did after a minute, stepping back. Then, I watched as he made a serious mistake --- he slipped the collar controller into his belt.
The Listerian healer bent over me, prodding none to gently at the gashes on my back. I tolerated it for a few moments, then rose up like an exploding Taun-taun and shoved the quack away, making sure he impacted hard with Baldy. They both went down in a heap, but I was already half way to the door by then.
I ran like a scalded hound for the only cover I could find --- a large pile of shipping crates. I heard Baldy's voice ringing out after me but I didn't look back. If I could get far enough away before he came to his senses . . .
My world lit up in red-hot agony as the pain collar was activated. I dug my fingers under it, as if that would help, even as I lost my footing and crashed face down on the hard, cool pavement. He had it set on maximum, I realized with a shudder. I wouldn't last long at this rate. Already, my throat was closing, my mouth open wide as I tried in vain to suck in one more breath.
As quickly as it began, the pain stopped. I tried to get to my feet, but I was too weak, too wrung-out from the agony to do much more that flop around like a gutted fish. With the sound of running footsteps, I knew my luck had run out.
"I warned you," Baldy growled in my ear as he pulled me up by one arm. "Don't ever try that again."
I couldn't stand, but it didn't matter. He put an arm around my waist, the pain from my injured back barely noticed in the fading fire of the correction collar. Soon, I was forced face down onto the bunk again, and this time he took the precaution of securing my hands to opposite corners, then my feet, tied together to the bottom. I was stretched out tight, agonizingly so, and utterly helpless.
The healer hissed something and tugged at my shirt.
"Yes," Baldy said. "I'll take care of that." I felt the bed dip as he sat down beside me, then fear sizzled through me as I heard him activate what could only be a vibroknife. I'd seen them before, even had them used on me before, by a cruel Bantha's-ass that liked the sight of my blood.
With cool efficiency, Baldy cut away my clothes, managing somehow not to knick me with the deadly blade.
"I have to make a call," he said as he got to his feet. Then, apparently remembering that the healer couldn't understand him, he said probably the same thing in Lista-speak. I felt his hand in my hair, and then he was turning my face so he could see me, and I him. "Behave," he ordered sternly as if he thought I could do anything else. "I'll only be in the cockpit. The healer will alert me if you give him trouble."
He slipped away, moving quietly for a man his size, and the Listerian started in on me. I'd had enough attention from his kind to last me a lifetime, but I was quite helpless as he poked and examined my wounds. Finally, he settled on my torn and bruised anus. I tensed as he parted my cheeks, bit my lip to keep from crying out as two of his bony, large-knuckled digits were pushed inside me. They were slick with something, probably medicinal cream from the savage sting of it, and it hurt, oh ghods it hurt!
None too soon for me, he turned his attention to my back. He applied more of the cream, the stuff burning its way through my nerves like the press of a hot knife. When he got to the worst and most painful of the gashes --- those on my lower back --- he passed some sort of instrument over them that made it feel like he was ripping away the flesh.
I couldn't help it; I cried out as he pressed the edges together, presumably sealing them. Baldy stuck his head out of the cockpit, his face tight with anger, and I regretted my lapse. No doubt I was going to pay for disturbing him.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, stalking to the side of the bunk and gazing down on me like I was a piece of meat he was going to carve up for his dinner. "Why haven't you given this man anything for pain?"
That shocked me, but I didn't have time to wonder about it as he barked out the question in Lista-speak and the healer answered him. Then, Baldy did a very strange thing --- he knelt beside me and reached out to stroke my filthy hair.
"I'm sorry," he said. "He says he can't give you anything because of the drugs in your system." His hand settled over my temple, and suddenly the pain didn't seem so bad. In fact, I found myself growing drowsy and could hardly keep my eyes open. "Sleep," he said, his voice almost gentle. "When you awaken, we'll be on our way home."
I must have fallen asleep then, although I can't imagine how, because when I next opened my eyes, the healer was gone, the hatch was sealed, and I could hear a low hum that I assumed was the ship's engines. My back and ass still burned, though not as badly, and I noticed with mild surprise that the incompetent shitface had overlooked my broken fingers. Or maybe my new owner had asked him not to set them.
I was still tied down, not surprisingly, and I could hear Baldy talking to someone from the cockpit. His voice was soft, as if he was whispering, and I could only catch a few words here and there.
"Seems all right . . . just in time . . . treated badly, but . . . no, no, we can't divert . . . back to the . . . " I heard him sigh. "Very well . . . at Eulgusia 4 . . . spaceport just below the equator . . . yes, fine . . . see you then . . . " I heard his chair squeak when he rose, and quickly closed my eyes, feigning sleep.
"I know you're awake," he said a moment later from beside me. Giving up the pretense, I looked up at him as he pulled over a chair. "The healer said your back will heal, as will your, ah, other injuries. I'm afraid I can't let you up. You've already shown yourself to be untrustworthy. That's not your fault, of course. If I'd been . . . well, no matter." He sighed. "I also can't remove your collars and I can't wean you off the drugs they've got you on. The Healers at the tem-" He caught himself. "The Healers at home will do all that, but we're still several days out." He reached over to push my hair out of my eyes, his touch surprisingly careful. "We're going to be making a stop tomorrow," he continued. "An, ah, old friend of yours will be joining us. He's been looking for you for a very long time."
He leaned forward, his fingers lightly touching my back, and I felt myself tense. Here it comes, I thought. My anus was still burning from the healer's attention and I knew it would get worse very quickly. Tied the way I was, stretched out tight with my feet together, I wouldn't be able to spread my legs or raise my hips. Being taken this way was painful in the best of times. And Baldy was a big guy. Probably hung like a Rancor, too. I'd taken big men before, and probably would again, but I wasn't exactly up to my best right now.
I closed my eyes as he got to his feet. I heard fabric rustling, assumed it was him undressing, getting ready to use me. But, to my surprise, he drew a blanket over me.
"Sorry I can't let you up to get dressed," he said, his voice all business again. "Perhaps when we pick up Qu--- ah, your friend --- he'll have some better suggestions on how to control you."
Ah, so my 'friend' was the controlling type, was he? Was I a run-away slave, and the 'friend' my former master? If so, that probably meant that this one was a bounty hunter, hired to bring me back to face my punishment. I had no doubt that it would be terrible. My master was probably some hard-nosed, wealthy piece of Bantha crap that would rather spend thousands having me returned than to admit that one of his slaves escaped him.
Baldy turned away, the movement brisk as if he couldn't wait to get away from me. "I'll fix you something to eat. Oh, and I know you can speak, so pretending to be mute is foolish. I'm taking you back to where you belong. They will know what to do with you."
He crossed to the food area and began puttering around, and I wondered what his words met. Just where was he taking me? I didn't remember anything from before my mind-wipe, wasn't at all sure I wanted to. What I did want was for this cocksucker to untie me! I was used to being free at night, at least as free as one can be in the basement of a brothel. I spent all day every day tied down on my stomach, and had no desire to spend all night this way, too.
Deciding to try talking to him, I gave up my pretense of being mute, since he already knew better anyway. "Please, sir," I said, having to catch myself before calling him 'Baldy.' "Can't you untie me for awhile? I'm very uncomfortable."
He turned to gaze at me, his look hard and calculating, and I thought I had made a big mistake. But, he merely shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that. There is too much sensitive equipment on this ship that you could damage, and too many ways to injure yourself or me." He approached me again, sinking into the chair next to the bed and holding out a plate of food. "Here," he said roughly, as if tending to me rubbed him raw. "Eat."
The food smelled wonderful, and I was grateful that it had been several hours since my last shot. I could never force myself to eat in the mornings, when the stuff made me feel like my stomach was turning itself inside out. I opened my mouth and he stuffed a piece of warm bread into it. Oh, it was heavenly! I couldn't ever remember a time when I had anything more to eat than a bowlful of tepid soup, made of whatever was left over and always less than appetizing. All too soon, the bread was gone, but he started feeding me little bits of cooked meat. Flavorful and mildly spicy, it melted in my mouth. Maybe being a slave of some rich stiff wouldn't be so bad.
"Enough for now," he said, although there was still food on the plate. "Too much will make you ill." My eyes followed the food greedily as he put it away in a small cooling unit. He turned to glance at me. "Is there anything else you need before I retire for the night?"
Here was my chance. "Please, sir," I said in my mildest tone. "I need to relieve myself."
His face went very still, and he muttered a single word that sounded like a curse, but in some language that I didn't understand. "Yes, of course you do," he said, shaking his head as if I'd just ask him to name me King of the Outer Rim. He seemed to think over my request for a moment, then finally stepped forward to release my feet. "I'm going to leave your hands tied," he said as he worked, "so this is going to be awkward. But ---"
I lashed out with my feet, managing to snag one around his neck and jerk him down hard against the edge of the bunk. He hit the metal framework nose first, giving a wet sounding shout as blood sprayed all over him and me and the mattress. But, I didn't wait around to see how much damage I'd done. Moving as fast as my injured back would permit, I hauled myself up and set to work on freeing one wrist, using my teeth to untie the knots.
He was up before I was half done. Blood and tears were streaming down his face and the skin around his eyes was already bruising, turning kind of yellow-green against the darkness of his skin. He loomed over me, weaving on his feet, and I braced myself for the blow I knew was coming.
Again, he surprised me. Instead of hitting me, he flung his free hand, the one that wasn't clutching his broken nose, out as if he were shooing away a pesky insect.
I felt like a brick wall had fallen on me. A shock wave of some kind slammed me down into the mattress, and for a moment or two I had to struggle to raise my head enough to breathe. Before I'd quite succeeded, a strong hand caught one of my ankles and yanked me down toward the foot of the bed.
I kicked out with my other foot, trying for his nose again. But another wave of his hand drove the air from my lungs and left me gasping like a beached whalen. What kind of sorcerer was this guy? By the time I recovered enough to move, he had me tied down again.
"I gan't belibe 'ou did dhat," he sniped, still clutching his bleeding nose.
"I still have to pee!" I shouted at him as he turned to grab a towel to catch some of the blood.
"Suffer!" he shouted back as he stormed toward the cockpit.
I didn't see him for quite some time after that. I didn't regret breaking his nose, but I did realize that my timing could have been better. My bladder really was full, and I awoke sometime in the middle of the night cramping pretty badly and wishing I'd thought further ahead.
"Hey, Baldy!" I yelled before I realized what I'd said.
There was no answer. Shit, maybe I'd killed him.
"Hey!" I yelled again, louder this time. "Wake up! If you don't let me up, I'm gonna wet the bed!"
I heard some grumbling, so he was obviously still alive. Good. I'd hate to starve to death strapped to a bed inside a pilotless ship. Finally, he emerged from the cockpit, and I had to bury my face in the mattress to keep from laughing out loud. He was sporting two shiners, olive green against his dark skin, and the bruising had spread to encompass his whole nose, which was slightly crooked now, and both cheekbones. He looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a Gamorrean boar and lost.
"Hurry up!" I shouted.
He ignored me and moved straight to the food prep area. Just as I was about to demand to know what the blazes he was doing, he returned, carrying a narrow-mouthed pitcher-looking thing. "I liked you better when you didn't speak," he grumbled, his voice coming out very nasal. Soon, he was bending over and fumbling with the ropes around my feet.
I held my tongue, waiting for my chance. Once I emptied my bladder, I was going to take care of this arrogant bastard. I felt the tension ease off my ankles and drew my legs up, only to be stopped short after no more than a few inches. Alarmed, I twisted on the bed and glanced down. Damn it! I was still tied! He'd only lengthened the rope a little.
"Oh, no," he said. "I'm not stupid enough to untie you again. You'll just have to roll onto your side and use this decanter as a urinal."
I stared at him in shock. "I'm not peeing in that thing."
He shrugged and turned away. "Fine. Wet the bed then."
"No! Wait." I drew in a long breath when he turned back, gazing at me as if I was some rabid beast that he would just as soon let die than to have to touch. "Okay. Fine. I'll need some help, thought."
He came back, bending cautiously over the bed as he helped direct me into the pitcher's small opening. I sighed with blessed relief as I drained my bladder. But, it was a messy, awkward procedure, and a little leaked out onto the bed. Oh, boy, I thought as he stepped away. Now I get to lay in it.
"Now, the bed's wet," I complained, watching as he took the pitcher to the recycler and dumped it.
"I can't help that," he said, still as smug and angry as ever. He returned to the foot of the bed and tightened the rope, forcing me flat on my stomach again. Sith, this was getting worse and worse! Was the asshole going to leave me tied down like this until we get to wherever it was we were going? He headed back toward the cockpit. "Go back to sleep," he ordered.
I listened to the sound of him settling back in his chair and wondered why he chose to sleep sitting up instead of in the other bunk. Was I that repulsive to him? Curious, I bent my head near my armpit and sniffed.
Whew! I was definitely ripe! No wonder he didn't want to spend much time around me! But, it wasn't like I'd been given the opportunity to clean up or anything. My body odor - and the stale smell of sweat and sex that still clung to me - combined with the urine that had soaked into the bed soon began to make my nose twitch. Damn, at least at the brothel I would have been hosed off at the end of the day!
Thinking about all the things that had leaked or sprayed or been smeared on my skin made me start to itch. I endured it for awhile, trying in vain to rub against the mattress to relieve the itching. Of course, all the places that I wanted most to scratch were inaccessible; my back, the top of my head, behind my right knee. I tried to close my eyes and ignore it, but within just a few minutes it was driving me to distraction.
"Baldy!" I shouted, knowing that he probably wouldn't appreciate the nickname but not knowing what else to call him. "Hey, Baldy!"
Only silence answered me.
"Hey!" I yelled, even louder. "Hey, you! Come in here!"
This time I quite clearly heard him groan. "What is it now?" he asked as he stopped in the doorway and glared at me.
"I itch!" I told him, still rubbing as best I could against the mattress. "And, I stink like the brothel!"
The dark-skinned man sniffed the air, then grimaced. "Yes, you do stink," he said, his cold eyes holding mine. "And, my name isn't 'Baldy'."
"Well, you haven't given me another one!"
He pinched the bridge of his nose lightly, wincing at the contact. "I'm not allowed to tell you my name. They think it might be --- harmful," he said, not going into any detail. He approached the bed and bent over me, drawing the blanket down to my waist. "Where, precisely, do you itch?" he asked, then added, half under his breath, "And it'd better not be any place too personal."
"Between my shoulder blades," I told him. He scratched it, his short nails feeling indescribably good. "And, the top of my head," I added when he was finished. He sighed heavily but scratched there for me as well, though it took him a couple of tries to find just the right spot. "And, scratch behind my right knee."
"This had better be the last place," he muttered as he flipped the blanket aside and complied. Abruptly, he straightened. "Enough," he ordered in a stern, harsh voice. A wave of his hand smoothed the blanket back over me. How did he do that? "Go to sleep."
Early the next morning, after what seemed like only a couple of hours of sleep, I was awakened by the slight jar of the ship setting down.
I was stiff and sore, every muscle and joint hurting, but somehow I had to get loose. This would probably be our only landing between now and wherever it was Baldy was taking me. Once there, I would undoubtedly be caged and chained and forced to face my fate. If I had a chance for freedom, it had to be now.
Speak of the demon, Baldy glanced at me as he left the cockpit. If possible, his face looked even worse this morning. Both eyes were swollen, as was the bruised skin over his cheekbones. He glared at me as he headed for the hatch.
"I need to pee again," I told him.
He didn't so much as slow down. "Too bad," he growled.
I raised my head. "And I need some fresh air! This bed stinks!"
He kept walking, stopping only long enough to hit the hatch release and lower the boarding ramp. Instantly, the sounds and smells of a bustling spaceport assaulted me. I strained against my bindings, but it was useless. I wasn't going anywhere until someone released me.
Baldy disappeared down the ramp, and a few minutes later, I heard two voices at the bottom of the ramp, but, as before, I couldn't make out all the words.
"What the . . . to you? . . . broken?" a deep, educated-sounding but distressed voice said.
"Yes. Your . . . did this . . . dangerous . . ."
" . . . want to see him!"
" . . . a moment first . . . told not to tell him about . . . trigger repressed memories . . ."
" . . . know all that! . . . let me pass!"
"Fine . . . remember . . . warned you."
Two sets of footsteps pounded up the ramp, one slightly out of rhythm, and I stared at the hatch, waiting for my first look at the owner of that voice. I didn't have to wait long before a bearded man with long, flowing, dark hair, sprinkled with gray, stormed into the ship and froze in his tracks. He leaned rather heavily on a twisted wooden cane, favoring his right leg. His blue eyes were intense and wild looking. He stood there for a moment, his mouth slightly open and mouthing something I couldn't hear.
Dangerous, my instincts told me. Maybe even more dangerous than Baldy. The first thing out of his mouth proved it.
"What the Sith is this?" he roared, and my heart did a slow rollover. Did this mean that Baldy had been mistaken? Was I not the one he was sent to find after all? Would they send me back to the brothel to be used and abused and eventually tortured to death? The new guy's next words eased that fear, but brought on another one. "What in the Sith hells did you do to him?"
I closed my eyes, unwilling to face him, as cold terror turned my blood to ice. So, I thought, now I pay for Baldy's broken nose. I waited for him to approach the bed, waited for the first blow of his cane on my unprotected back. Ghods, could things get any worse?
"I asked you a question!" he shouted, his voice ringing through the ship. He had a thick accent that I couldn't place, and didn't try to. I hadn't noticed it at first. It seemed to get heavier when he was enraged, as he clearly was now. I didn't try to answer him. He knew damn well what I'd done.
"Nothing I didn't have to do."
That was Baldy's voice, and it took me a second to figure out what was going on. Then it dawned on me ---he was the one getting yelled at then, not me! That was quite a revelation, and I dared open my eyes, watching the drama before me through lowered lashes.
"Did you plan on leaving him chained to the damn bed the whole way back to Coruscant?" the new guy demanded.
"I told you --- he's dangerous!" Baldy swung one hand to indicate his bruised and swollen face. "This is what happened the one time I untied him! And I don't appreciate your tone, Master Ji---" He broke off suddenly, shaking his head then wincing at the motion. Oh, yeah. I'll bet he had the devil's own headache.
I looked closer at New Guy. Baldy had called this one 'Master.' Was this my Master too, then? I risked another examining glance. As tall as Baldy and even more powerfully built, the new one was clearly a warrior. His movements were graceful like a trained fighter's, the large hands, now clinched into fists, had visible callouses. Obviously, not a man to be trifled with.
He limped to the bed and stripped the blanket away. "Oh, great force . . ." he said in an entirely different tone, this one sad and softly tremulous. He sank down beside me, one hand gently tracing the wounds on my back. I saw him look up wordlessly at Baldy.
"He was in a brothel," the dark-skinned man said, his own voice lowered respectfully. "Apparently, he'd outlived his usefulness, and they'd started renting him out to their more sadistic customers. He wouldn't have lasted much longer there."
The hand moved from my back to the side of my head, entwining in my tangled hair. "They cut off his braid," he whispered.
"Yes. And, like I told you, he's been brainwiped. He doesn't remember anything of his life before."
New Guy nodded. Then, he did a most amazing thing: he dropped to his knees beside the bed, wincing slightly and reaching to hold his right leg. Obviously, it was troubling him. His hand was still in my hair, and he stroked it like he was petting a stray feline.
"I am so sorry that this happened to you, pada---" He broke off, closing his eyes. "Did they call you anything at the brothel?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly on the last word.
"They called me 'slut', if they called me anything," I said, watching as the words --- or was it the sound of my voice? --- seemed to wound him.
He stroked my hair again. "Well, we'll call you 'Ben,' if you don't mind." He stopped, a crease developing between his eyebrows, then he leaned toward me and sniffed. "Great skies!" he shouted, turning suddenly to Baldy again. "Couldn't you at least have bathed him? The boy reeks!"
I listened to them argue, a plan forming. Obviously, this one cared about me, or about who I used to be, and just as obviously he didn't like Baldy at all. If I could gain more of New Guy's sympathy and drive an even bigger wedge between him and Baldy, maybe I could convince him to set me free, or at least get him to lower his guard long enough for me to escape.
"Look at him!" Baldy said, pointing at me. "You're scaring him by shouting!"
Instantly, New Guy's expression changed from rage to shame. He turned back to run a hand down the side of my face. "Forgive me, pada--- Ben," he said. He'd said that same word now twice. Was that my real name, I wondered? Pada? It was strange, but it was better than 'Ben.' New Guy was still talking. "I don't mean to frighten you. It's just that --- I've been looking for you for so long, and to finally find you in this condition . . ." He broke off, and I could swear I saw the hint of tears shimmering in his eyes. Oh, yes. This one I was going to be able to manipulate. The future was definitely looking better.
"Are you my Master?" I asked softly, and I watched in fascination as the question jolted him.
He had to swallow twice before he could answer me. "I am," he said finally. "But not in the way you think. I - we - worked together, but we were separated when you disappeared." He closed his eyes, as if the memory was painful. "I've been searching for you ever since." He tilted his head back toward Baldy. "A lot of us have been searching for you." He looked at my back again, and I swear he winced. "I'm so sorry this happened to you."
"I don't remember you," I said in the saddest voice I could manage, still playing on his sympathy.
"No, I know you don't," he said, stroking his hand through my hair again. He forced a smile. "But, you will. The Healers at the te--- um, the Healers say they can reverse the brainwipe. If they can, you'll remember everything."
I nodded, although I didn't believe a word of it. He was delusional if he thought a brainwipe could be reversed. "Please untie me," I asked in a soft --- and I hoped, respectful --- voice. When I added "Master" on the end, he actually flinched.
He reached instantly for the bindings on my right hand, but Baldy stepped forward quickly and jerked him away.
"Are you crazy? If you untie him, he'll likely kill both of us!"
"He's just a boy, Mace!" New Guy shouted. Then, he turned, his eyes horror-stricken as if he'd just sunk a knife into my ribs. Ah, I thought, so Baldy's real name is Mace? Wonder why he wouldn't tell me that sooner? New Guy was stroking my face again. "Ben, I'm going to do the best I can to make you comfortable on our trip back, but I want you to promise me something. If you start to feel bad --- if you get a headache or start to feel disoriented or dizzy --- I want you to tell either me or ---"
"Mace," I supplied when he broke off.
He winced. "Yes, or Mace. Will you do that for me?"
"If I do start to feel bad, what will that mean?" I asked, seeing here the beginnings of something I could use again him.
New Guy sighed and stroked my hair. "It could mean that you're having memory flashbacks and your mind is trying to block them, because of the brainwipe. That's why we can't tell you anything about your past, not even your real name. It could be very dangerous."
"I'll try to be patient, then, Master," I said in my mildest voice.
New Guy nodded, believing me, but over his shoulder I could see Baldy rolling his eyes. My gaze flickered for a second to the still open hatch, and I guess Baldy saw me, if the next words out of his mouth were any indication.
"He's conning you, can't you see that?" he said, stepping forward and glaring down at me like I was a squashed bug on his boot heel. "All he wants is for you to untie him so he can make a break out that door."
To my surprise, New Guy nodded sadly. "I know," he said. He struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane and the side of the bed, wincing when he put weight on his right leg. "Well, then, I suggest you close it and get us underway. Once we're back in space, there will be nowhere for him to go, will there?"
"If you think that will keep him from attacking us, you'd better think again," Baldy said, turning toward the hatch.
I felt my eyes widen as it was closed and sealed, my last chance of escape cut off. New Guy leaned over and cupped one of his big hands around the back of my head.
"What are you going to do?" Baldy asked him suspiciously. I was surprised. There was no respect in his voice, yet he had called New Guy 'Master.' It made no sense.
Instead of answering, New Guy looked around the interior of the ship. "Do you have a chair?" he asked.
Baldy nodded. "Yes. Back in the aft storeroom." His eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"And is the 'fresher carpeted?"
"No."
"Good," New Guy said, limping toward the rear of the ship.
"What are you going to do?" Baldy called after him.
"I," New Guy said without turning around, "am going to give Ben a bath."
Baldy closed his eyes and groaned, loud. Then, he pinned me with another glare. "You behave yourself for him, do you hear me?" he asked, though why he bothered I'll never know. "You mean a lot to him, whether you remember or not, and if you hurt him --- brainwipe or no --- you'll regret it. I promise you that."
I stared right back at him, refusing even to blink, and finally he turned away toward the cockpit, grumbling under his breath. A few seconds later, the engines came on at about the same time that New Guy was stepping out of what I assumed was the storeroom. He carried a straight backed chair.
My stomach dropped as the ship lifted off, but New Guy barely swayed. Most people, especially anyone with a bum leg, would have been thrown off their feet by the motion. What was with the guys, anyway? There was no time to speculate as he set the chair down beside my bed and leaned across me toward my left wrist. I heard a sharp intake of breath and knew he'd seen my broken, twisted fingers.
"Sith," I heard him say, the word little more than a breath of air.
This looked like a pretty good chance. "Baldy did that," I said in as pitiful a voice as I could manage.
Instantly, New Guy was kneeling at my side, looking me square in the eye. Uh oh, I thought, he's not buying that. The intense blue eyes held me in their grasp. I couldn't have looked away if my life had depended on it. "No, he didn't."
Never one to give up easily, I tried again. "Well, he wouldn't let the medic fix them, at least!"
His brows lowered, and he looked like a simmering storm cloud getting ready to cut loose. "He must not have seen them, then, or he wouldn't have let them go untreated."
"Let what go untreated?" Baldy called from the cockpit. He must have really good hearing, I realized, because New Guy wasn't speaking all that loudly.
"He has three broken fingers," New Guy responded, not raising his voice at all.
I heard the sound of a vehement curse. "Why didn't he tell me?"
I felt those damn probing blue eyes on me again and turned reluctantly to meet them. "Good question," New Guy said, his voice soft. I felt a shiver go up my spine. Feeling suddenly vulnerable, and not happy about it, I jerked against my restraints.
"What the hell do you care?" I cried out, thrashing on the bed, even though the movement sent a wave of fire through my injured back. "I didn't ask to be here! I sure as hell didn't ask to be tied to this damn bunk for no good reason! If you're going to beat me or fuck me, just get it the hell over with!"
Silence fell, the dull hum of the engines and my own ragged breathing the only things audible in the entire ship. New Guy was still staring at me. He looked hurt and angry and sorrowful all at the same time, and I didn't understand any of it. Furthermore, I didn't think I wanted to.
"Stop staring at me!" I screamed.
He blinked. Just --- blinked! The very fact that that was the only reaction my tirade had caused infuriated me. I threw myself against the restraints again, snarling like some crazed beast.
"Stop struggling," he ordered, accompanying the words with a subtle wave of his hand.
To my horror, I found myself obeying him, sinking back into the mattress, my rage melting away.
"Sleep," he said, still looking deeply into my eyes.
It wasn't like I wanted to sleep, but suddenly I couldn't keep my eyes open. And, it didn't seem like that unreasonable a request, now that I thought about it. I let my eyes close . . .
When next I opened them, I was sitting in the middle of the ship's small 'fresher, bound hand and foot to the chair. The fingers on my left hand throbbed dully, but they felt straight and had been bound tightly together with some sort of bandage. Nearby, New Guy was running water in the sink, checking the temperature with the tip of one finger.
He glanced in my direction. "Welcome back," he said mildly, dipping a cloth into the water and wringing it out. He wiped it over my face, and I twisted away as far as I could. He lowered his arm and sighed. "This will be a lot simpler if you will agree not to fight me," he said in a perfectly reasonable voice. Trouble was, I wasn't feeling particularly reasonable. He brought the cloth up again, and I snapped at his hand, my teeth barely missing his flesh as he jerked away with almost inhumanly fast reflexes. He glared down at me and, despite the fact that his anger seemed serenely controlled, I felt a shiver of fear. I had no doubts that this one could kill me with no trouble at all, or make me beg for death.
"If I have to gag you, I will," he said, his tone soft and sad, the burr of his accent thick. "But, one way or the other, I'm bathing you."
He raised one hand to the back of my head and caught a handful of my matted hair, holding it, not painfully tight, but snuggly enough to let me know what would happen if I struggled. Then, he began to wash my face. His touch was firm, yet strangely soothing. As he worked, he talked.
"I've been told that you were kept on drugs at the brothel," he said. "I'm afraid we're going to have to continue giving you those. Do they have any side effects?"
"They make me want to puke," I said bluntly.
His eyebrows lofted. "Hmmm. Well, I will try to do something to remedy that, although I make no promises. Anything else?"
Something in me wanted to tell how weak they left me feeling, but I choked back the desire, not wanting him to see the drugs as a way to make me more pliable. Still, there was something about this man, about his voice and the look in his eyes that made me want to be truthful with him. But, the truth could be dangerous. So instead, I faked a shiver and lied through my teeth. "They make me hurt," I said, hushing my voice to where it was almost a whisper. "Everywhere. And, they burn going in, and for a long time afterward."
He didn't reply, and after a moment, I dared to glance up at him. He was watching me intently, his eyes slightly unfocused, even as he scrubbed my chest. "No, they don't," he said a few minutes later, a tone of reprimand in his voice. He squatted down until he was eye level with me. "I know that you're trying to make me pity you, trying to soften me up so that I'll let down my guard." He stroked a hand through my hair, softly, like the touch of a lover. This time, my shiver wasn't faked. "And I know that you can't help the way you're acting. But, until the memory wipe has been reversed, I will take no chances with you. If you prove to me that you'll behave yourself, you will be allowed a little freedom. If not ---" He broke off with a sigh and a slight shrug. "If not, then you will have to be kept restrained."
"Please, Master," I said, surprised that this time my pleading tone was entirely earnest. "Don't tie me to the bed again."
I watched as he winced at my words. He shook his head. "I can't promise you that . . ."
"Please!" I said more loudly, begging now. I took a deep breath and struggled to control my voice. "Please, I've spent the last --- I don't know how many months --- tied face down to a bed while dirty, crude, slobbering scum-suckers rammed their cocks into ---" I broke off, watching his face. It had gone pale, his mouth a tight, thin line, and a worry crease had developed between his eyebrows. I opened my mouth to continue, but found I couldn't. Couldn't make him listen to this. Couldn't bear to see the look in his eyes as I told him of the horrors of the brothel. Couldn't hurt him like that.
Why, I asked myself. What the hell was this guy to me, anyway? Why did I care? But, I did care. "I'm sorry," I heard myself saying, although I couldn't imagine what had come over me. "I just don't --- please, leave me tied to the chair if you don't trust me. Just, please, don't tie me down again."
New Guy swept toward me, so suddenly that I tried to flinch away, and wrapped his arms tightly around me. "Oh, padawan," he breathed against the top of my head. "I'm so sorry. So terribly, terribly sorry . . ."
Padawan, he had called me. Although it didn't trigger any memories, it was as good a name as any, I supposed. I found myself longing to know his, but I knew he wouldn't tell me. He held me for a long time, pressing my face against his chest. He smelled earthy and warm and familiar somehow, and I longed to grab a double handful of his tunic and pull him down into a kiss. That thought was so strange, so foreign to me. I'd never wanted to kiss anyone before, never wanted to touch them or to have them touch me. But, I did now. Oh, I most certainly did now.
"Master?" I said, nuzzling against a nipple that I could feel through the fabric. "Were we lovers?"
I heard his breath catch in his throat. He held me tighter and didn't answer for a long moment. "No," he said finally, his voice infinitely sad. "No, we were very close but not lovers. But, I had hoped that one day ---" I heard something strange then, almost a choked back sob, and suddenly my self-preservation instincts kicked back in full force.
"Please, Master," I said, using the same tone he had responded to before. "Please, I promise not to try to escape, but please don't tie me down again."
I felt him stiffen, pulling away from me. He turned his back on the pretense of rinsing out the cloth. What he was really doing, I thought, was trying to compose himself. "You have no intention of fulfilling that promise," he said a few moments later, all business again. He turned back to look at me. "I know you don't understand how, but I can read you quite clearly. I know when you're lying."
Sithfuckyou! I wanted to hurl the curse at him, but managed to keep it inside. His dark blue eyes narrowed.
"And, although you can't help it, you should know that I don't appreciate obscenities." He picked up the cloth and continued with my bath. Once he had washed everywhere that he could reach, he pushed me forward in the chair and slid his hand between me and the hard back. He kept his touch light, but it still hurt. I must have flinched, for he stopped suddenly and squatted down to meet my eyes. "I'm sorry. You must believe me when I tell you that I don't want to hurt you." He sighed. "But, I do want to wash that hair."
He filled his cupped hands with water and I shivered as he wet my hair with it. Soon, he was working in some sort of fruity smelling soap, his strong fingers massaging it into my scalp. It felt unbelievably good, and I closed my eyes, tilting my head forward and nearly purring in contentment.
"Head back," he said after too short a time. More water followed as he rinsed the soap out. "Later, when it's dry, I'll try to comb this out. You need a trim, too. You hardly look like yourself with this ragged long hair."
So, I thought, I wore my hair short before. But, something he had said earlier came back to me. "You said they cut off my braid," I said in the form of a question.
He nodded, and one hand reached up absently to stroke behind my right ear. "Yes," he said with a sigh. "It was --- a symbol of your station."
"You mean, it showed that I was your slave."
He actually flinched from the words. "You were not my slave!" he said forcefully, nearly shouting.
"I wasn't?" I asked, wanting to understand, wanting even more to stay on his good side and not anger him.
He shook his head. "No." He reached up again, wiping a trickle of soapy water off my forehead before it could get in my eyes. "No, you were my ---"
"Careful!" Baldy said, appearing suddenly in the doorway. New Guy turned to him almost guiltily.
"I'm sorry," he said, and I wondered who Baldy was that this man, this man who he had called "Master," would apologize to him. "I just wanted . . ."
"I know." Baldy's voice was tender, compassionate. Then, he looked past New Guy and eyed me up and down like a piece of meat. "Are you done here?" he asked, his tone hard and cold again.
New Guy nodded. He still had his back to me, but he reached up and wiped at his eyes as if drying a tear. For a second, something inside me ached, but I quickly pushed it aside. Why should I care how this asshole felt? He was nothing to me, was he?
"Then, we should get him back to bed," Baldy said, stepping toward me.
"No." New Guy stood up and turned to stare down at me, his hand coming out to catch Baldy's arm. "We're not going to tie him to the bed again."
Baldy lifted both eyebrows. "We're not?"
"No." Intense blue eyes locked with mine, holding me in their spell. "He's going to behave himself, aren't you, pada-Ben?"
"I don't want to be tied down again," I said, not promising anything else.
Baldy wasn't buying it. "But, we can't just give him the run of the place!"
"We won't." New Guy turned the full intensity of his gaze on Baldy. "It'll be fine. Trust me. I won't let him hurt anyone."
Baldy ran one hand over his scalp, then sighed dramatically. "Fine," he said, spreading his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I just hope you know what you're doing." With that, he left, and New Guy and I were alone. He caught my eyes again.
"I'm trusting you," he said, "but only so far. I know that you probably won't believe me, but I care very deeply for you. I'm taking you home, back to the life you were torn from all those months ago. But, you must do your part."
He rinsed my hair one more time, then brought up a soft towel and patted me dry. Kneeling, a motion which obviously caused him some pain, he cautiously untied my ankles. He was just struggling to his feet when Baldy returned.
"Here," he said, tossing New Guy a silky looking robe. "He can wear this till we get home, since I had to cut off his clothes."
"Thank you," New Guy said. He looked down at me. "I'm going to untie your hands, now, and let you up so you can dress. Don't try anything foolish, or I will do whatever is necessary to stop you."
I eyed him speculatively, then let my gaze slide past him to meet Baldy's stormy dark eyes. Even if I could get past New Guy, which was doubtful, I'd still have Baldy to contend with. Reluctantly, I nodded.
"Fine," New Guy said, reaching behind me to release my wrists. I drew them in front of me, rubbing them to restore circulation, then stood and slipped into the robe.
It nearly swallowed me. It dragged on the floor by a good third of a meter, and I had to turn the cuffs up three or four times so they wouldn't cover my hands. Because of my broken fingers, I had a little trouble with that, and New Guy bent to help me.
His face was so close to mine that my senses filled up with the scent of him. Masculine and earthy, I could have stood there and smelled it forever. I must have been staring, for he turned, still stooped a bit, and our eyes met. Once more, I was struck with an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him. Ghods, what was wrong with me? I tore my gaze away, silently berating myself. This man was the enemy. I couldn't let myself forget that.
"There," he said a moment later, one of his big hands lightly stroking the back of my head. "Now, will you give me your word not to try anything, or must I tie your hands?"
"My word isn't worth much," I said. "I'm just a filthy brothel slut."
With a suddenness that startled me, he gripped the sides of my head and jerked me around to face him. "Don't say that!" he demanded. "Don't you ever say that again, do you hear me?" Behind him, Baldy took a step forward, reaching out to catch New Guy's shoulder.
"Don't," he warned, but New Guy was already composing himself.
He squeezed his blue eyes shut as if he were in pain. "I'm sorry," he whispered earnestly. He pulled me tight against his chest, holding me there as if he never wanted to let me go. "I'm so sorry. I just --- just don't call yourself that again, please?"
I nodded jerkily, wondering who the Sith I was that this powerful, compassionate man should care about me. Abruptly, he released me and stepped back, but not before I felt an obvious bulge against my hip. So, he did want to fuck me, did he? Somehow, that thought sent a thrill of arousal through me, but I shoved the feelings aside.
"I'll try," I murmured.
A soft smile crossed his face. "Do, or do not," he said in the tone of a quote. "There is no try."
I blinked, wondering where I'd heard that before, for it definitely sounded familiar. New Guy shook his head, looking a little contrite.
"Never mind," he said. "Now, do I have your word that you'll behave?"
I stared at him for a moment, then looked past him again to the hovering storm cloud that was Baldy. Slowly, I shrugged. "I suppose," I said finally in my most casual tone. "I mean, I probably couldn't overpower both of you, anyway."
To my surprise, New Guy chuckled. "Well, since that is the best assurance I'm likely to get, I suppose it will have to do." He stepped to one side, gesturing me past him into the ship's narrow corridor. As we moved toward the front of the ship, they kept me between them, obviously not trusting me.
"What's going to happen when we get --- wherever it is we're going?" I asked as we walked.
"The Healers will reverse the brainwipe," New Guy said with conviction.
I snorted. "That's impossible," I said. "Once you're wiped, you're wiped."
"No," New Guy said. "No, Ben, you're mistaken. It can be reversed. They've done it before. Not that it always ---" He broke off, but I heard the rest clearly enough.
"Not that it always works?" I asked, and I somehow felt him wince, although I didn't see it since he was behind me.
"It will work," he assured me.
We had reached my bunk by now, and New Guy steered me toward it. "Relax," he said. "I'll fix us something to eat."
"You're cooking?" Baldy scoffed, making a face then wincing as it pulled at his bruised, swollen skin. "I think I'll pass."
"Hey!" New Guy objected. It sounded like this was an old joke between them. "I can cook! Besides, you've probably got this thing stocked with ready-to-heat rations anyway, don't you?"
Baldy waved him off, settling on the edge of the opposite bunk so he could keep an eye on me. "Whatever. Just don't poison us. Our guest here would likely kill us both if we pass out from food poisoning."
I watched them both, looking for weaknesses, anything I could use against them. Somehow, I had to escape, even if it meant killing both of them and commandeering the ship. I wasn't sure I could fly it, but I'd try.
Sitting there on the bunk, I noticed that my hands and feet had begun to tremble, and my head felt light and achy, as if the air was too thin. I realized it must be well past the time I was usually given my daily injection, and knew this was withdrawal that I was feeling. As if sensing it, New Guy turned from his cooking and knelt suddenly before me, strong hands gripping my shoulders, as he stared hard into my eyes.
"What is it?" he demanded. "What's wrong with you?"
"Drugs," I croaked, feeling my throat closing up. "Past - time . . ."
"Sith," Baldy said, the word a softly spoken curse. He rose and headed for the cockpit. "I forgot all about them."
New Guy settled onto the bunk beside me and drew me into an embrace, steadying my shaking body against his own. "Shhh," he whispered, his breath stirring my damp hair and setting my skin on fire. "Shhh. It will be better in a minute."
Baldy returned a moment later, a loaded hypospray in his hand. New Guy steadied my arm as he shot the contents into my wrist. Instantly, my nerves settled as the drug coursed through my system. As Baldy turned away, I looked up into New Guy's face.
He wore that look again, that look of compassion, almost of pity. "How long --?"
"How long have they been drugging me?" I finished when he didn't. "Ever since I broke the neck of the first man who raped me." I watched as a shudder ran through his large frame. "After that," I continued, wanting to hurt him, "they kept me tied down during working hours. Seven, eight customers a day paid to play with me. All the bad ones, you know? The ones who like their victims unwilling."
His face had paled, I noticed, and his mouth had tightened into a thin line. "Later, when I didn't settle down the way I guess they figured I should, they started renting me out to the real nasty ones, the ones that like to cut and whip and tear. Ever been fist-fucked by a Firsinian? Those long claws of theirs can really tear you up inside. And then, when they rape you afterwards, and that acidic semen hits the wounds . . ."
New Guy turned away and retched all over the floor. Seeing my chance, I launched myself at his back, driving him to the floor. He hit on his sore knee, a grunt of pain signaling his agony, but I ignored it as I fumbled to get a forearm across his throat.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Baldy moving toward me like some great, stalking, black beast. But, before he could reach me, New Guy made some surprise move of his own and tossed me over his shoulder as if I were weightless. Before I could even get my knees under me to rise, he was straddling my back, his weight firmly pinning my hips as he twisted both my arms behind me and held them there.
"Stop struggling!" he ordered, which only served to make me struggle harder.
// Padawan! Obey me! //
I froze when I heard the words in my head, as clearly as if he had spoken them. The sensation was strange, horrifying even, and yet something clicked within me at the intimate familiarity of it. Panting, I lay still beneath him, shivering from a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the cold deck I was pressed against. Images flashed through my head. Myself, walking a step behind and one to the left of this man. A weapon in my hand, it's glowing blade the blue of his eyes, clashing with his green one, though not in anger. The two of us, laughing companionably, his large hand on my shoulder. A name was on the tip of my tongue.
"Qui-Gon?" I breathed. Then, louder, "Master?"
Silence, so thick you could hold it in your hand, settled over the room. Everyone forgot to breathe. Words, finally, spoken in a voice thick with emotion.
"Obi-Wan?"
I grinned, the unfamiliar expression pulling at my cheeks. "Yes!" I nearly screamed it, overwhelmed with memories that were suddenly mine again. Suddenly, I was being pulled up into a firm embrace, so tight I could barely breathe. Not that I minded, however, for my arms went around him and returned the favor. I buried my face in his tunic, inhaling the sheer, wonderful scent that was the most important person in my universe. His face pressed down against the top of my head, his tears falling and soaking my hair just as mine were soaking his clothes.
"Oh, my beloved Padawan," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Oh, how I've missed you."
I felt a sob catch in my throat. "I knew you'd come for me," I said. "Before the mindwipe, I knew you'd come. I didn't have my river stone this time, Master," I lamented, remembering how I'd forgotten to pack it for that trip, something I had never done before. "It saved me before, but I didn't have it. I'm so sorry, Master. So very sorry."
He held me tighter, nearly crushing my ribs against his chest. "You have nothing to be sorry for, my own," he said, his words ruffling my hair and making my scalp tingle. "I should have found you sooner. If I'd been quicker . . ."
I pushed away, looking up into his tear-streaked face, unwilling to let him wallow for one more second in his grief. "No more sorrow," I told him firmly. "The past is past, and we must leave it there. All that matters now is that I'm back, and we're together again." And then I did what part of me had longed to do from the moment I'd first seen him. I reached up and pulled him down into a kiss.
He responded immediately, his mouth closing over mine and nearly devouring me. Peripherally, I was aware of Master Windu making a tactical retreat to the cockpit, giving us much needed privacy. For I found my hands suddenly tearing at Qui-Gon's clothes, desperate to touch him, to be touched. We were both soon naked, and I pressed him to the deck, pausing to rake my gaze across him.
His chest was broad and lightly furred, his nipples already erect and begging for my kiss. Lower, his glorious erection was huge, with a plum-colored head that reached up toward me greedily. Further down, muscular thighs and -
My inspection stopped at his right knee. A huge scar crossed it diagonally. I freed one hand and touched a fingertip to it lightly. "What happened?" I breathed.
"I got to the kidnappers just as they were loading you onto a ship," he explained, shifting somewhat self- consciously under my scrutiny. "I tried to reach you, but one of them had a vibroblade and -" He broke off, and I sensed a wave of embarrassement through our newly awakened link. "I suppose I wasn't paying sufficient attention to the here and now," he finished self-deprecating chuckle.
I turned to meet his eyes. "And, why is there still such a scar?" I demanded. "Couldn't the Healers -"
He actually blushed at my question. "I didn't take the time for them to fix it," he admitted. "I wanted to begin the search for you immediately, not be stuck in some Healer's Ward for days on end while they repaired the damage."
I surprised myself by glaring down at him. "Well, as soon as we're home, you're going straight back there," I told him. "That knee has waited far too long."
"Yes, my Master," he intoned in his driest voice, the one that never failed to make me grin. It worked this time, as well.
"Now," I said, looking down once more on the feast laid out before me and moistening my lips with the tip of my tongue, "we have something more important to do."
His pupils dilated with desire and he reached up to stroke my face. "I don't want to hurt you," he said softly.
I almost laughed out loud. "You won't," I assured him. "I'm hardly an innocent, you know."
His fingers traced my lips, then the cleft on my chin. "None are so innocent," he said, "as those who had no free choice." His hand slid slowly to the back of my head, urging me down and into another kiss. This one was tender, compassionate, and set my entire body on fire.
I edged nearer, pressing myself down onto him as if to climb inside his skin. The red hot brand of his cock burned against my thigh, and I slid a leg across him, hissing as our erections rubbed together, the friction nearly sending me over the edge.
"I love you, Qui-Gon," I breathed, breaking from the kiss just long enough to nip at his full lower lip, his beard tickling my nose.
"And I love you, my own," he said. He rolled me over, pressing me under him, his hips moving slowly and exquisitely as he stroked his cock against mine. His mouth found my ear. "Want you," he whispered. "Wanted you for so long . . ."
"You have me," I told him, my hands cupping the firm globes of his ass and pulling him all the tighter against me. "Now and forever, you have me."
We made love for the first time there, on the cold deck of Master Windu's ship. It was its own kind of homecoming, far better than any I have ever known. And, as we lay there sated, entwined around each other, I could feel the past months fading into distant memories, the light of our golden future outshining everything else.
The End