Shadow Side

by KatBear

Title: Shadow Side
Author: KatBear (katbear@cox.net)
Archive: MA, QJEB. Any others please ask.
Category: AU, angst, non-con
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Qui-Gon/other, Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Feedback: Appreciated.
Thanks: To the beta reader who made this a much better story (Bonny). All mistakes are my own.
Summary: An enemy from the past forces Qui-Gon to unbury an old secret.
Warnings: If male-male sex bothers you, you shouldn’t be here. Contains nonconsensual violence and sex.
Spoilers: None, AU in a post-TPM time frame. Charter member of Council of Denial.
Disclaimer: The boys belong to George Lucas, I'm just playing with them.
Notes: This story originally appeared in the Constrict 2006 zine. I have done a bit of tweaking before posting online but the main story is the same.

Obi-Wan sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, letting his boots clunk to the floor. He leaned back, arms extended to support his weight, a huge yawn splitting his face. He shook his head a few times, then sat with his head back and eyes closed.

"I would think after all these years you would be used to early mornings," Qui-Gon said. He was fully dressed, leaning against the door frame with a mug of steaming tea in his hand.

"Never," Obi-Wan groaned without opening his eyes. "I think my ancestors were nocturnal. It is not natural to be awake at this hour."

Qui-Gon laughed as he moved into the sleeping room, stopping in front of his lover. "Morningmeal is here. It will be quite a while before midmeal, so we should eat now."

"Food?" Obi-Wan opened his eyes, sat up, and said "That does sound like a good idea."

"Then I suggest you finish getting dressed." Qui-Gon smiled as he ran his free hand through the neck-length russet hair. "I'm glad you decided to let your hair grow out after your knighting. It feels nice."

Obi-Wan leaned into the caress. "Mmmm... that feels nice too."

"Now, don't get started." Qui-Gon gave a quick kiss to the top of Obi-Wan's head, then straightened and stepped back. "We already agreed that intimacy would have to wait until we get home. I'm going to go eat, and you had better hurry if you want any of it," he said as he headed for the door.

"Slave driver," Obi-Wan grumped, but was already reaching for his discarded boots.

Qui-Gon looked around the table, careful not to let his gaze rest too long on any single participant. Very early in the proceedings, he had learned that most of the Glavonans were very sensitive to any perception of inequitable treatment. Humanoid immigrants who had fled from oppression a few centuries earlier, they were a hard-working people, proud of the farms and towns they had built from almost nothing, but suspicious of outsiders. The pragmatic need to consolidate resources to compete with encroaching aliens in the surrounding systems had finally driven them to request that the Jedi send a team as impartial negotiators to forge a planetary combine.

"Hmmph," grunted Jer Evandro. "Seems well enough as far as it goes." The grizzled leader of the of the northernmost congregation nodded reluctantly as he read through the latest draft agreement. "Have to admit the lad had a good suggestion about using joint teams to monitor water usage." He cut a glance at his counterpart from his neighboring region, Jer Ermet. "Just need to be sure everyone gets their rightful share; that's all we've ever asked for."

"Thank you, Jer Evandro," Obi-Wan spoke up before Ermet could cut in. He knew the old man had not intended any offense; all of the delegation leaders had initially had difficulty taking the young knight seriously, an attitude Obi-Wan had patiently worked to overcome. The Glavonans tended to be both protective of and ambitious for their young. When negotiations occasionally threatened to run off track, Qui-Gon had used that attitude to point out the benefits that working together could bring for future generations.

"Actually, all of you are to be greatly commended," Qui-Gon continued smoothly. "You have worked very hard these several tens. I think this latest version of the treaty is very close to meeting everyone's needs." Qui-Gon waited a moment as heads slowly nodded in agreement. "I am concerned, however, that there is still no provision for addressing the miners in the mountain bands. Their numbers appear to have been growing and it would seem prudent to –"

"They have no place at this table," Jera Breen interrupted coldly. "Lazy bendets chose their own fate. Next time they come thieving across my border the only 'provision' my people need is a good aim."

"There have been reports of off-worlders in their camps and space shuttles touching down in the mountain valleys," Qui-Gon said mildly. "Would it not be better to try to bring them into the discussions before they get to be an even bigger problem?"

"They had their chance, and their demands were outrageous." Jer Utorn thumped a fist on the table, then leaned forward. "I agree with Jera Breen. Our lands border a lot of those mountains, and those scum are always sneaking around to steal and despoil from honest folk." He shook a finger at the senior Jedi. "You are too soft on them. They are spreading their depredations everywhere, and we all know they are behind this latest round of killings and bombings. After the treaty is signed, we will be sending a force up there to take care of the problem our way." He sat back and folded his arms as dark mutters of assent went around the table.

Qui-Gon raised a placating hand, his mask of serenity hiding an internal sigh of frustration. For a very long time, he had had misgivings about the wisdom of leaving the mountain renegades out of the talks; even now the Force continued to nudge him into an uneasy but indefinable anxiety. He had hoped to enlist support from Jera Mern, whose lands bordered the southernmost mountains and who had not reported any problems with the miners. Although certainly ambitious, she was unfortunately also the youngest of the leaders and not willing to buck the others without good cause. The rest of the delegates were adamant, and even Obi-Wan had discounted Qui-Gon's vague and unsubstantiated concerns. "As you wish. It is clear that you are all aware of the problem, and I certainly do not want this issue to jeopardize the treaty." He spread out both hands as he nodded slightly. "Now then, if we could turn our attention to the new draft, let us see if we can resolve the few remaining questions."

The group quickly settled to its work. The discussion was serious, and the participants had been at their task long enough to have left petty bickering far behind. The two Jedi skillfully guided the negotiations past several of the final minor points, letting the representatives lead the way in building their final consensus. Slowly, the hours ticked away as the words spun.

Qui-Gon glanced at the side door, taking note of the servitor discreetly signaling that the mid-day meal was ready. He nodded slightly and returned his attention to the discussion at hand. A few minutes later he took advantage of a natural break, and cleared his throat.

"We've had a very productive morning, but this is a good point to break for a short time to eat if you wish."

Jera Breen stood and stretched, joints audibly popping. "Sounds like an excellent idea. These old bones can only take so many hours of sitting nowadays."

There were several sympathetic chuckles as the small group moved out to the terrace. The plain but ample buffet offerings were quickly transferred to heaping plates. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan quietly reviewed their progress as the delegates ate and relaxed in the warm sun.

"I think another day or two should see the end of the discussions," Qui-Gon said. He made more notes in the margin of the draft they had spent the morning revising as he chewed on a slice of greebafruit.

Obi-Wan paused between mouthfuls of food. "I agree. There are only a few minor issues to resolve." He took a sip of water. "It will be good to finish here and get back to –"

The knight's words were interrupted by a dull boom, which rattled the windows and crockery.

Everyone jumped to their feet, exclamations and questions on their lips. Obi-Wan, saber lit, did a quick inspection of the immediate area as Qui-Gon herded the delegates back into the relative safety of the heavily walled discussion hall.

Qui-Gon activated the secure comm terminal, scanning the police and military channels for news. He glanced up when Obi-Wan entered, but returned his attention to the terminal after the younger knight's negative nod.

"There!" Jer Emet stabbed a finger at the screen. "That overhead view there!"

Everyone crowded around. "Oh gods, it's the college."

There was a heavy silence for a moment. All of the delegates had children or close relatives attending Glavona's main college.

Jer Utorn pulled out a private communicator and swiftly punched in a code. "My nephew is on the local police force," he muttered as a signal started to come through. "Anter, it's Utorn. What's happening at the college?"

"We don't know much yet," crackled a tinny voice. "Looks like at least three simultaneous bombs in different parts of the campus. Casualties don't look bad, but we're getting reports of hostages being snatched." A burst of static flared for a moment. "I'm sorry, uncle. That's all we've got so far."

"Thanks." A calloused thumb slid the power switch to off.

"If you would like to take a break this afternoon..." Qui-Gon began.

"No." Jera Breen grimly headed back to the table. "We have work to finish."

The delegates quickly disposed of the final minor issues. The mood was dark, particularly after reports filtered in showing that several delegate family members were indeed missing and an anonymous new group had posted demands for autonomy for the mountain region. After a read-through of the complete final draft of the treaty, copies were dispatched to each regional council for final approval. Despite the latest incident, no major opposition was expected so a final reading and signing ceremony was scheduled for three days hence.

"We appreciate your assistance, Master Jinn," said Major Ovetn.

"We are only too happy to help," Qui-Gon replied. Obi-Wan had already left police headquarters to join the team investigating the college bombings.

"It's pretty clear that off-worlders have been involved, even if just supplying munitions." The major gestured at the long table of evidence. "Some of this is local, but these explosives" he pointed "and these casings here are definitely off-worlders. They are not typically used for mining operations, so we believe they were brought in specifically to support terrorist-type operations."

Qui-Gon closely examined several of the exhibits. "Yes, many of these are clearly of off-world manufacture." He picked up several pieces of twisted metal. They gave off a slight dissonance in the Force; the dissonance fed his earlier anxieties without providing any clear resolution to them. He held up a deformed spring. "Where did you recover this?"

"Those chromarthum pieces started showing up about a month ago when we started getting a big increase in precision bombings. Definitely not related to mining work."

"But you believe all of the damage is being done by the mountain bands?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Yes," the major answered. "They have always ostensibly been primarily miners and traders, but we have captured several from the northern ranges involved in thefts, vandalism and various other crimes. They have gotten much bolder these last few months, particularly since the Jedi were contacted to mediate a treaty."

"Have there been previous problems with the taking of hostages?"

"Not really. There were a few incidents where people were taken during the course of other crimes, but they were always released immediately. This is the first time we've had targeted hostages. It all seems to be part of the escalation of activities aimed at disrupting the treaty negotiations."

The duty sergeant stuck his head in the doorway. "Transports are ready, Major."

"Ah, good." The major turned to Qui-Gon. "If you want to accompany the patrol we can leave now."

"Thank you. I appreciate the opportunity to see some of the areas outside the city where the outlaws have been active."

"Don't worry, Master Jinn," said Major Ovetn with a grin, "there's almost always something happening in the Rayovont sector."

The team headed out with high hopes, but for a long while it seemed the major's words would be proven wrong. The small convoy of two military and one police armored tracked vehicles headed out in a wide westerly arc, quickly leaving city buildings behind for a moonlit countryside. For three hours they rumbled past tidy farms and sleeping herds, long rows of grain crops interspersed with patches of woodlands.

A crashing sound from a strip of forest brought them to a halt. Armed soldiers spilled out of the front and rear vehicles to set up a perimeter as a pair of police, weapons drawn, cautiously ventured toward the trees. Qui-Gon knelt at the front of the police track with Major Ovetn. The atmosphere was tense until a bovine trotted out of the darkness. A nervous laugh broke the silence.

"Go on, Bessy," chided one of the soldiers as he herded the creature toward the neighboring pasture.

"We may as well take a break here," grunted Major Orunto to Qui-Gon. He shouted to the team. "Guards out to each side, ten minute break." He reached for his water carrier.

Qui-Gon wasn't convinced by the peaceful quiet. There was a rising tension in the Force. He touched the major's shoulder. "There *is* something wrong here," he said quietly. "I am going to investigate." He rose to his feet.

Major Orunto looked at the Jedi for a long moment before nodding. "If you insist. Take two men with you."

"Very well." He held his unlit saber at his side as he began walking away from the vehicle while the major detailed two soldiers to go with him.

As Qui-Gon stepped off the road he felt a spike of energy in the Force. "Down! Get down!" he shouted. He threw himself into the grass as a barrage of gas grenades enveloped the convoy. He rolled to his left, holding his breath as he scanned the edge of the wood line. Several dim figures moved among the trees. Qui-Gon rose to his feet and sprinted towards the forest as another round of grenades exploded around him. He was almost to the edge of the grass when a huge flash of white light blinded him. He was aware of a heavy net settling around him; he lit his saber and was slashing at the cords when a blow from behind sent him into unconsciousness.

An assortment of minor pains competed for attention as Qui-Gon regained consciousness. The stinging burn of the scrapes on his arm and face and the dull burn of a bruised side lost out to the throbbing stab at the back of his head. He kept his eyes closed and drew a cautious breath as he catalogued his injuries. The pain was momentarily set aside as he registered the gray mental fog that meant he was cut off from the Force. He started to reach for the cold heaviness of pelsteel that circled his neck but never completed the movement.

Qui-Gon opened his eyes to survey the restraints that held him in place. Metal cuffs on his wrists were attached to the ends of a shoulder-width metal bar; the bar in turn was attached at each end to chains which ran up to a double pulley suspended from the ceiling. Metal cuffs around his bare ankles were attached to another metal bar; the ends of this bar were bolted to rings in the smooth floor. He still wore leggings and undertunic but the rest of his gear was gone.

A cylinder of light surrounded the Jedi; the blackness beyond its edge gave no clue to his environment. The temperature was moderate, the air dry with a slight metallic odor. Qui-Gon stilled his breathing and heartbeat, closed his eyes and listened. For many minutes he simply stood, extending his senses. Eventually his patience was rewarded when he heard a hint of breath and a slight rustle of cloth.

"Would you care to introduce yourself?" Qui-Gon calmly spoke in the direction of the sound he had heard.

An amused chuckle rent the darkness. "You haven't really changed after all these years."

Qui-Gon blinked in the sudden flood of light that banished the dark. The spacious room was long and relatively narrow. Directly in front of him were several comfortable chairs and a couch. Seated on the gray couch was a slender figure in black, legs extended. Qui-Gon scrutinized the man for a moment; long black hair, narrow face, half-smile on thin lips, scarred cheek.

"Xanatos." Qui-Gon nodded slightly at his former padawan. "It has been a long time since our paths crossed."

"Not so long as you think." The elegant figure stood and sauntered forward. "I've been following your activities for many years, Master Jinn. Quite an impressive record."

"Thank you." Qui-Gon glanced around. Along the side of the room he saw a wooden X rack, an overhead frame, and a leather sling, then a table with several whips and what appeared to be a large assortment of sex toys. Craning his neck further Qui-Gon saw some padded benches, a padded athletic horse and a metal table. He turned his head back around; the wall on the other side of the room was padded with various rings and chains hanging from it and the back of the room appeared to have a showerhead and water hoses in the corner and two wide doors.

"Welcome to my playroom." The smile on Xanatos's face fractionally widened. When Qui-Gon didn't answer, he continued in a silky voice. "As I said, I've been following your activities for a very long time, waiting for the right opportunity - to take you."

"You surely aren't still mooning over a silly padawan crush," Qui-Gon said. He tried to keep his tone light; he remembered all too well how easily the younger man's temper could be triggered.

"It was never a padawan crush, Qui-Gon." Xanatos, nearly of a height with the Jedi, moved in closer until they were almost chest to chest. He reached a hand to touch Qui-Gon's cheek. "I wanted you with all of my heart and soul, and I offered you everything.”

"It wasn't the right thing to do. You were my apprentice, and I couldn't give you what you wanted."

"But you could give it to that pretty-boy Kenobi?" Xanatos snarled.

"That was different. Although we loved each other, we waited until he was knighted."

"Always the proper Jedi," Xanatos said sarcastically. He fisted a hand in Qui-Gon's hair. "You should have taken the offer when you had the chance. It's too late, now. You are mine and I will do with you as I please."

Xanatos released Qui-Gon's hair. He stepped back and slowly circled around the upright figure.

"Just what do you intend to do?" Qui-Gon asked.

"For now, just a bit of foreplay, so to speak. I've always wanted to properly decorate that magnificent body, so we'll be doing that today." Xanatos stopped behind Qui-Gon and kneaded one buttock. He laughed when Qui-Gon involuntarily clenched his muscles at the unexpected contact. "Don't worry, I'm saving your precious arse for a few days." Xanatos continued his perambulation until he was standing in front of the Jedi again.

Qui-Gon watched impassively as Xanatos stood silently for a moment, then reached under his long tunic to unhook something with a click.

"Such an elegant weapon," Xanatos said as he held Qui-Gon's lightsaber up. "Kills so cleanly, yet also multifunctional." He ignited the blade, smiling at the familiar wharoosh of energy. He dialed the blade down to its shortest length, then set the end of the blade near Qui-Gon's left wrist. "Quite efficient for short range tasks." He ran the blade down Qui-Gon's arm, cloth burning away as the blade advanced, pausing when he reached the shoulder.

"I would advise against any involuntary movements for a few minutes," Xanatos smirked, then resumed the shredding of the tunic.

Qui-Gon stood immobile for several minutes as Xanatos slowly cut away his tunic, then his leggings. He held his breath when Xanatos started on his smallclothes; the blade was uncomfortably close to his genitals and he didn't want to provoke any unfortunate slips.

When he was finished Xanatos kicked away the loose scraps of cloth surrounding the Jedi, then stood back in admiration. "You have kept yourself in excellent condition, Qui-Gon." With one long finger rubbing his chin, Xanatos surveyed the figure critically for a long moment. "I think we should start with a completely clean slate, though."

Qui-Gon watched silently as Xanatos went to the table and returned with three boxes. From one he withdrew a red cylinder and unscrewed a cap. He pointed the end at Qui-Gon and pushed the nozzle. A cool dense green foam emerged; Xanatos began methodically covering Qui-Gon's entire body from the neck down.

"Don't worry, just a depilatory. I assure you that this part will be quite painless," Xanatos smirked. He continued talking as he worked his way around the tall body. "As I mentioned earlier, I've been following your work for quite some time. I've got an extensive file on you, in fact. A lot of successes, a few failures now and again. It's been very profitable keeping track of you." He smiled at Qui-Gon's raised eyebrow. "Oh, yes. Wherever you were involved I was able to know how to either predict your responses or when it was better for me to operate elsewhere. That treaty you arranged on Chondor, for example. First, I made a tidy profit on both the arms I was selling to the rebels and the mining equipment I was selling to the government. And the mining rights you won for the rebels?" Xanatos chuckled. "Well, they ended up having to sign those over to me to pay their debts."

"Those mining rights were to help provide future employment and revenue for the new province that was created," Qui-Gon said coldly.

"Don't worry, they got full value for the rights. And I did employ quite a few of them in my mines." He paused to survey his work. "Hmmm, I think we need something a bit stronger here," he muttered to himself. Xanatos put down the cylinder and got a tube from the box. He uncapped it and spread a generous amount of the contents on his hand, then began massaging it in around Qui-Gon's genitals.

Qui-Gon tried not to flinch as the unwanted touch applied the cold gel. "I suppose you're going to take credit and claim you were also behind my failed missions," he said.

"Not all of them, of course. You are quite capable of creating magnificent disasters all by yourself." He lingered over Qui-Gon's balls, adding more of the gel. "And besides, even I wouldn't be that egotistical, although I did make a very generous profit backing the government on V'trug, the rebel forces on Shothaq and the colonists on Wlpaaj." He finished spreading gel on Qui-Gon's arse and deep in the crack. He wiped his hand on a towel, then stood back to admire his handiwork. "Now we just give that a few minutes to do its work."

Qui-Gon clenched his jaw and stayed silent.

"What, no scathing comments about evil and the Dark Side and contributing to the oppression of the downtrodden?" Xanatos taunted. He shrugged. "No matter. We both know I wouldn't listen anyway."

"All those years ago when I was your padawan, I kept thinking that if I understood you better, knew you more thoroughly, that I could find a way to make you want me the way I wanted you..." Xanatos crossed his arms as he stared at Qui-Gon. " I was truly quite obsessed with you back then."

"It would not have made any difference," Qui-Gon said.

"Eventually I came to realize that. Despite your reputation as a maverick, you were at heart a dedicated Jedi, and you really believed all that nonsense about the Code." Xanatos waggled an eyebrow. "But I did learn interesting things about you along the way. Would you like to know about some of them?"

"It appears that you are going to tell me regardless of any interest I might have in the subject." Qui-Gon stared back, a small fluttering in his gut warning him not to underestimate the potential danger. Xanatos had been an undeniably talented apprentice before he turned.

"Well, yes. It wasn't very long after my sixteenth nameday that I broke the password on your email; your personal journal was a little more difficult but I had that as well a few months later." Xanatos shook his head. "I was rather surprised that there was so little of interest in there. A few guilty passions like dark chocky bars and saruba ices, and little green asparguls." He shuddered. "I never did understand how anyone could stand those nasty things."

"They are quite tasty, and highly nutritious," retorted Qui-Gon.

Xanatos curled his upper lip in disgust before he continued. "What was far more curious were your reactions after failed missions. I remember returning to Coruscant with you; you seemed to take each failure personally and withdrew into a silent funk. You used to stay that way, sometimes for days, hardly eating, spending hours in meditation. Then suddenly you would be back to normal again. There was almost nothing worth reading in your journal, just entries about the mission and how badly you felt."

"I meditated after every mission, successful or not. It helped me to better understand what had happened and how to conduct myself on future missions."

Xanatos snorted. "Others might believe that, but I didn't. I watched you very closely for over two years, and I eventually realized that you only changed back to your normal self after you had gone away from the Temple for a couple of days. So I started following you."

Qui-Gon's gut turned cold. "There were many duties such as seminars and meetings which required my absence from the Temple," he said, keeping his voice dry and matter-of-fact.

"I'm sure that was what most people believed." Xanatos's smile was feral and his dark eyes were glinting. "But I know better," he said softly. "You were good, very good, at hiding your tracks. For several years you kept giving me the slip. But the longer it went on, the more curious I got, so I persisted in the hunt. Finally I got my opportunity after that mess on Vidalgo." He paused, a cloud of darkness passing over his face. "I do have to admit that was a bad one. So many people killed to such little purpose. We barely escaped with our lives."

Qui-Gon stared down at the ground. He remembered Vidalgo also; he had had opportunities to salvage the situation and been unable to follow through on any of them.

"I knew you were going to try to slip away when you said you were going to a conference on the far side of Coruscant. I followed you like a leech, and it was quite a chase. You actually showed up and signed in at the conference, then we were off again. But I was determined, and finally managed to stay with you until you went to ground."

Xanatos stepped close to his former master. He used one hand to force Qui-Gon's chin up so he could see his face.

"Seronay's House of Pleasure and Pain," Xanatos said softly. "Sound familiar? Very discreet, very private. And so very helpful for Jedi masters seeking to purge their guilty souls."

Qui-Gon couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down his spine as the ice in his gut turned to a frozen lead weight. He stared back at Xanatos. "No," he whispered hoarsely. He thought he had long since buried away his association with that name from sight and mind.

"You may deny it all you like," Xanatos said, watching the emotions play across his captive’s face, “but I saw you in there. It was there I started learning about the things I wanted to do to you, the things you begged those strangers to do to you." Xanatos slowly ran the tip of his tongue around his lips, breathing heavily through his nose. "I've waited a long time for this."

Qui-Gon tried to shake his head, but the cruel grip on his chin prevented it. "No," he whispered again. He felt paralyzed, but his heart raced madly, sending blood roaring through his ears.

"Oh, yes. My people are very good and I pay them very well, Master Jinn," Xanatos said. "Would you like to know the dates you have visited the good madame's establishment during the last twenty years? How long you were there and what you did?"

Although Qui-Gon still felt frozen from the shock of having his secret exposed, he tried to shake his head again.

"Such an interesting place, don't you think? I believe your preferences were for the whip and for putting your arse up to be fucked raw by strangers while you were blindfolded, weren't they? Good thing they also had a staff of first rate healers." He stepped even closer, almost nose to nose. "Tell me, Qui-Gon, have you ever mentioned that place to your pretty little boy toy?"

Qui-Gon shuddered at that thought, but all power of speech had now fled and he could only stare into those dark eyes, his jaw clenched.

Xanatos laughed and released his grip as he stepped back. "I thought not," he sneered, stepping back even further, then searching in one of the boxes he had retrieved. He pulled out a small control box. He pushed one button and several small slots opened in the floor around Qui-Gon; another button brought a hose descending from the ceiling.

"Don't worry about Kenobi," Xanatos said as he grabbed the end of the hose. "I'm only interested in you, and making up for some lost time." He adjusted the nozzle on the end of the hose and turned it on Qui-Gon. "Let's clean you up and see what we've got, shall we?"

Qui-Gon gasped as the cold spray hit him, throwing him out of his paralysis. Even as he shivered while the water was played over his body, he fought to clear his mind and regain control of his emotions; there would be time enough later to deal with his feelings about the past. The biting shower rinsed away the depilatory, leaving behind smooth naked skin. Xanatos lingered over Qui-Gon's genitals, washing them thoroughly and teasing his anus with the metal nozzle. Qui-Gon gritted his teeth to keep silent.

Finally satisfied, Xanatos turned off the hose and sent it back up into the ceiling. He walked around Qui-Gon, muttering "nice, very nice" as he made the circuit. He stopped in front of the Jedi, then leaned in with a leer, "Aw, is little Qui cold?" He fondled the shriveled penis for a few moments. "We can't have that, now, can we?" Another button on the control box brought a blast of warm air from the floor, quickly drying Qui-Gon.

"Just what exactly do you have in mind, Xanatos?" Qui-Gon asked. His skin still tingled all over from the cold and his gut still churned, but he had won back much of his external calm and was determined to try to find a way to escape.

"I would have thought that that would have been rather obvious by now," Xanatos smirked as he looked through one of his boxes.

"Aside from the impending torture and rape," Qui-Gon said dryly, "I was wondering more about why here and now?"

"Tsk, tsk," clucked Xanatos. "We are going to engage in fantasy fulfillment, my dear Qui-Gon, not mundane torture or rape." His look turned thoughtful. "Although you are correct. I have not really explained all the nuances so that you can fully appreciate the situation you are in." He paused, "A moment, please." He spoke into an unobtrusive communicator on his wrist. "Tell Elvern to come here."

"Hmmm, where shall I start?" Xanatos cocked his head as he looked at Qui-Gon. "Well, for one thing, Glavona has been on my list of development projects for quite some time. We've been building a couple of different presences among the various mining communities and contributing to growing trade activity in this sector."

"So you're behind the miner's terrorist actions?"

"Now, now, you're getting ahead of things." Xanatos waved a chastising finger in Qui-Gon's face.

"So sorry," Qui-Gon said in mock contrition, hoping to keep the former Jedi talking.

Xanatos snorted contemptuously. "You will be - so don't patronize me." He waited a moment to ensure he had Qui-Gon's attention. "To keep it short, we've been working on Glavona. When word came that you were being sent to mediate a treaty with the farmers, it was just too good an opportunity to pass up. We increased our support for the northern miners, knowing that the antagonism would keep them out of any discussions. We have had the negotiation hall bugged since you started, so when you were close to getting a treaty we knew it was time to strike with new tactics. Kidnapping their precious brats will be the key to moving things in the direction we want." He preened, his smile predatory. Xanatos leaned in close to Qui-Gon. "Your greatest failure as a Jedi is about to turn your mission into one of my biggest personal profit-makers."

"I don't understand." Qui-Gon stared steadily back.

"Underneath those mountains are the biggest deposits of frelanium for twenty sectors around." Xanatos's smile was wide, like a cat with a bowl of cream.

Qui-Gon racked his memory for a moment, then his eyes widened as the significance hit him. "Frelanium? Genuine pure ore?"

"The real thing, verified several times over." Xanatos tapped a finger on Qui-Gon's chest. "Millions and millions of credits worth if it's rationed out properly."

"But frelanium is a key component of several vaccines and medicines. You can't hoard it like that. And what about the byproducts from the extraction process? Those are notoriously toxic," Qui-Gon protested.

"Whoever owns it can do what they like with it. And we'll be long gone from this miserable planet before the toxins are bad enough to be noticeable."

"And how do you expect to get the rights to the frelanium?"

"That is the delicious part," Xanatos smirked. "You've already done the hard work to soften them up, to get them ready to think about a planetary federation. Over the next few days my people will change that goal to include recognizing the 'good' mountain people who are going to come forward to denounce the 'bad' mountain people who have been misled by evil off-worlders. We have a leader already prepared who is going to go to Jera Mern and offer to get all the kidnapped children back." Xanatos put one finger under the edge of Qui-Gon's chin, forcing it up just a bit. "And all that the courageous 'good' miners want in return is to be left in peace to develop the mineral rights within their recognized borders. Very simple, and all legal."

Qui-Gon stared at Xanatos. It was a brilliant scheme, and he knew with a sick certainty that it could actually work. And there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it while he was trapped here.

The door whooshing open interrupted the conversation. A tall gangly humanoid with stringy white hair came in, a large leather case clutched in his four arms. Xanatos stepped back and turned toward the newcomer.

"Elvern, meet Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn,” Xanatos said unctuously. “You have studied the designs I sent?"

The humanoid nodded toward the chained captive and replied, "Yes, sir. Should be no problem, sir." Elvern set his case down and opened it. He began laying out some small trays and tattoo tools, from which he picked out a small box. "I believe you wanted to start with these?"

"Yes. Thank you." Xanatos took the box and emptied its contents into one palm.

Elvern used a small cylinder to spray something cold on both of Qui-Gon's nipples. They hardened and stood up under the chill.

"I hope that you will at least keep this tasteful," Qui-Gon said.

"Of course," Xanatos said. "Nothing garish for our Jedi master." He nodded at Elvern. "This might sting a bit."

With a quick stab Elvern ran a large needle through the base of first one and then the other nipple. Xanatos quickly inserted jet black rings, one per nipple, sealing them closed with a small mini-torch. Attached to each ring was a short length of fine black chain. Xanatos attached the other ends of the chains to the black rolled-metal circlet around Qui-Gon's throat.

Another swoosh of cold antiseptic was applied to the end of Qui-Gon's penis. Another swift jab of the needle elicited a sharp grunt from the Jedi. A black ring about two fingers in diameter was inserted and sealed. Xanatos followed that with a simple black cock ring which he mounted snugly around the base of Qui-Gon's genitals.

"You're doing well," Xanatos said as he patted Qui-Gon's cheek. He used a touch of Force to heal the skin around the newly inserted rings. "Don't want any minor distractions while Elvern works his magic." He smiled and sauntered over to sit on the couch.

For the next hour Qui-Gon gritted his teeth while Elvern rapidly plied two small tattoo guns, one in each pair of hands. At the base of his spine he felt a series of letters applied, letters which he strongly suspected spelled out the name of his former padawan. A red and black twisted knot went on the point of each shoulder, intertwined red and black circlets went around each bicep and thigh. Another intertwined circlet surrounded each nipple, while a large, dark blue rose adorned the right hip and a thick black broken circle was emblazoned on Qui-Gon's left hip. The final touch was one last set of the intertwined circlets about halfway down the length of Qui-Gon's penis.

At the end of the hour Qui-Gon stood limply, sweating and breathing hard. Individually each tattoo was beautiful, curves elegant and well defined, but the cumulative impact of the nonstop multiple needles had been difficult to endure.

Xanatos drew near to examine the results. "Very nice job, Elvern. I think that will be all for now. You may go."

"Thank you, sir." With a bob of his head, the humanoid finishing packing up his tools, then left.

"The tattoos are a nice starting point," Xanatos said as he sprayed a chilled antiseptic over all of the new artwork. He also used another touch of Force to speed the healing and take the edge off the pain. He patted Qui-Gon's cheek when the Jedi looked up him with one eyebrow raised. "I want to make sure I have your attention for the next item."

Xanatos smiled as he pulled a large knife from one of his boxes, removed it from its sheath and tested its edge on his thumb. He straightened, holding the knife loosely in his left hand. "A lightsaber is a good tool, but for some things you really need to have a fine piece of sharp steel," he said softly.

Qui-Gon stood silently as Xanatos stepped in close to him. He watched the dark gleam in Xanatos's eyes as the flat of the blade rested on his breastbone for a long moment. The metal was warmer than he expected, or perhaps he was just colder than he realized. It took a few seconds for the sensation to penetrate his consciousness when the blade pierced his skin. He blinked and inhaled sharply as a narrow string of ice sliced across his chest, leaving a wake of fire behind it. Very slowly the blade moved through his skin, leaving the thinnest of furrows connecting the newly tattooed rings around his nipples. He watched in fascination as three times the skin separated beneath the blade's pressure, the blood peeking out of the three shallow lines. Three times he felt the warm wet tongue that trailed slowly across each line, gathering in the precious fluid.

"Mmmm, so good," murmured Xanatos. "Just as I imagined it." He took off his black tunic, revealing an expanse of pale skin stretched across the narrow, well-muscled frame.

Three more closely spaced lines were added, each lovingly laved by the broad tongue. Qui-Gon pushed the pain away, concentrating on reciting mantras of serenity in his head. It was harder to ignore the new sensations that were beginning to intrude when Xanatos extended his attentions to Qui-Gon's nipples, sucking and nibbling until they were hard, then licking his way back across the bridge of straight lines. It was impossible to ignore when Xanatos began licking his way up Qui-Gon's chest and neck while using his free hand to fondle the large cock dangling above the hairless balls. He pulled back and turned his head away when his tormentor tried to capture his lips.

Xanatos stepped away from the long body straining at the limits of its restraints. He licked reddened lips as he leered, "You're enjoying this, aren't you, Qui-Gon?"

"No," Qui-Gon spit out. He felt a trickle of sweat on one temple. His arms were beginning to burn from the strain of pulling at the restraints.

"Your mouth says one thing, but your cock says another." Xanatos put the point of the knife on Qui-Gon's partially erect penis and slowly trailed it down the tender skin, enough pressure to tease but not to cut.

Instead of deflating under the knife, Qui-Gon's cock filled even further. He damned himself for his lack of control and clamped his jaw shut.

"Yes, definitely enjoying this." Xanatos grinned as he tapped the flat of the blade against Qui-Gon's cock. "But we have one more decoration to add today before we finish."

Qui-Gon gasped sharply when Xanatos put one hand on his belly then began cutting a circle around the diameter of the splayed fingers, stopping at his wrist. The icy burn was hotter this time, the blade digging deeper in a second partial circle slightly larger than the first. When Xanatos took away his free hand there was a broken circle on Qui-Gon's belly to match the tattoo on his left hip and the scar on Xanatos's cheek. The blood welled from the lines and began to ooze down the skin. Qui-Gon shook his head, breathing in short, hard breaths through his nose.

"Just one more piece, my love," said Xanatos. He too was breathing hard, but the bulge in the tight black leggings showed it was certainly not from pain. Xanatos put his free hand just above the circle, pushing Qui-Gon back against the chains to hold him still.

Qui-Gon cried out when Xanatos swiftly slashed two crossed lines inside the broken circle, the pain from these deeper cuts a sudden burning shock. He moaned softly when Xanatos dropped to his knees and began licking the bright red blood trails coloring the Jedi's belly. He tried to twist away but Xanatos held him firmly by both hips. The broad tongue swept around the circle and across the 'X', pausing occasionally to dip into the navel which lay just inside the lower edge of the circle. Eventually, that wicked wetness began exploring further south.

Qui-Gon shook his head when hot suction captured his organ. He clenched his jaw, fighting the combination of pain and pleasure which was rapidly hardening his penis. He tried to twist away once more but only succeeded in driving his cock deeper into the mouth that had captured it. He gave a gasp of mingled relief and frustration when cool air on his penis signaled that his tormentor had moved on.

Xanatos moved upward, licking and sucking at the cuts he had inflicted, working from the broken circle to Qui-Gon's nipples and the lines between. Eventually he stepped back, partly to catch his breath and partly to admire his handiwork.

"Magnificent." Xanatos licked his lips. "So beautiful... so hot." He unfastened his leggings and slid them off. His substantial phallus sprang free, already hard with a hint of moisture at the tip. "So fucking hot." He slowly moved forward.

Qui-Gon could only watch helplessly as his former apprentice advanced toward him. He was sweating now, the salty fluid stinging as it trickled onto the open wounds on his chest and belly. His shoulders burned and the cuts throbbed with pain, but his cock throbbed with pleasure. He shuddered when Xanatos reached out and pulled him close, skin on skin.

"Mmmm, delicious," Xanatos purred as he rubbed himself against his captive. His hands roamed over Qui-Gon's back and sides as he began kissing his way along Qui-Gon's shoulder, nipping at the base of his neck, nibbling on his ear. His hips rocked, rubbing his cock against Qui-Gon's. He reached down with one hand, fondling and squeezing Qui-Gon's balls.

"You know you like it rough," Xanatos growled as he thrust harder.

Qui-Gon grunted and tried to turn his head away.

Xanatos used his free hand to grab Qui-Gon's hair and force his head still. He kissed fiercely, forcing his way into Qui-Gon's mouth and ravaging it with his tongue. He rocked his hips faster, moving his hand from Qui-Gon's balls to grab his engorged penis, squeezing it, rubbing both cocks together. Blood and sweat lessened the friction between the two bodies as Xanatos moved against his former master. His movements became jerky and rapid, increasing to a frantic pace. He finally broke the hard kiss to howl in ecstasy as his cock spasmed, adding his seed to the slick mixture on Qui-Gon's belly.

The quiet in the room was broken only by the hard breathing of the two men as Xanatos clung to his captive. Qui-Gon groaned softly, his painfully hard cock restrained by the ring around its base.

Finally Xanatos stirred, drawing in a deep breath, then stepping back shakily. He stopped and drew in a few more deep breaths. "Gavno, that was good." After he fetched his towel and wiped himself off, then pulled his leggings on, he turned his attention back to Qui-Gon.

"We should do something for those cuts, I think," he muttered. He drew a blue tube from his box, squeezed out a generous amount and began smearing it on the knife cuts.

Qui-Gon barked in pained surprise as the ointment burned. He grunted as Xanatos applied more of the stinging gel, only slightly grateful that his penis decided it was not happy with this latest development and partially deflated.

"Burns a bit, but I have found this particular mixture does an exceptionally fine job at producing nicely defined scars as well as speeding the healing process," Xanatos said, his tone quite matter-of-fact. "I'm sure you will appreciate the effect later."

Qui-Gon just glared at Xanatos. He allowed himself to sag forward against the restraints, easing his shoulders.

"I'd love to stay and have some more fun," Xanatos said, "but I'm afraid there is still quite a bit of work to do." He kissed Qui-Gon, then spoke into his communicator. "Send in Sergon."

Almost immediately the main door opened and a group of five uniformed humanoids entered. The group stopped and one man saluted. "Sergeant Sergon reporting, sir."

Xanatos nodded, then turned to Qui-Gon. "I want you in good health, Qui-Gon, so I assure there are no drugs or poisons in the food or water you will be provided. In case you have any thoughts about escaping, there is only one exit from this room, the room is monitored, and the door can only be released from the control room. It would be in your best interests to cooperate as the guards have stun rods and orders to use them at the slightest disobedience."

When he received no response from Qui-Gon, Xanatos shrugged and turned to his men. "I'm going to release the Jedi now. I want him cleaned up, then fed. Put him in the cell and make sure he has water. Even without access to the Force he is still dangerous, so don't let down your guard for a second."

"Yes, sir. We'll take care."

Xanatos held his control box, finger poised, while two of the guards attached a two meter lead to each of Qui-Gon's ankle cuffs and another lead to his neck ring. He then released the chains that held Qui-Gon's wrists up. Two guards cautiously detached the chains, leaving the wrist cuffs attached to the metal bar. The ankle cuffs were left locked to their metal bar when that bar was released from the floor rings.

"I'll be leaving now, Master Jinn, but I will be back eventually. There will be some entertainment for you later in your cell as I would not want you to be bored," Xanatos said. "Be a good boy." He blew a kiss before turning and leaving.

Sergon regarded his prisoner calmly, gray eyes set deep in the smooth face. "Master Jedi, I do not wish to damage you, but I will not allow you to escape or harm the other guards. It would be better for everyone if you cooperate. If you choose not to, you will leave us no choice but to use the stun rods."

Qui-Gon looked around and noted that all of the guards appeared to be experienced professionals. They kept their distance, were alert and had positioned themselves to be able to easily upend him with a simple yank on either ankle cuff. He nodded silently.

"This way please."

The ankle bar forced Qui-Gon to shuffle awkwardly to the end of the room. In the corner he was hosed down with warm water, then seated on a stool. A table pulled down from the wall to provide a dining area. Four guards stayed back while the fifth set down a large wooden bowl of stew, two slices of bread, a wooden spoon and a bottle of water. For just a moment Qui-Gon thought about refusing the offering, but quickly decided it would be more prudent to try to keep his strength up. With the wrist bar still in place, Qui-Gon had to eat carefully and slowly, but the guards seemed to be in no hurry. Qui-Gon took advantage of the leisurely meal to survey his surroundings, but there was nothing in his vicinity which might help him to escape.

After he finished eating, the guards escorted Qui-Gon through the nearest wide door into a small cell about two meters wide and three meters long. Inside was a bunk bolted to the wall and floor, a steel toilet and a small steel sink. Two bottles of water rested in the sink. The lead was removed from his neck ring and fastened to the wrist bar.

"Master Jedi, please lie down on the bunk face up."

Qui-Gon obediently lay down. A guard tugged on the lead attached to the wrist bar, so he raised his arms over his head. Another guard pulled the leads on his ankle cuffs taut.

"This will sting, Master Jedi, but it will help the cuts heal faster." Sergon pulled a blue tube from a pocket, squeezed gel onto a sponge, then applied the gel liberally to the knife cuts, ignoring the Jedi's sharp gasp. Once he was finished he carefully removed the cock ring, then the guards removed all of the leads and left the cell, leaving only Sergon.

"There is more drinking water in those bottles if you don't wish to trust the tap water. The cell is monitored at all times, so please don't try anything foolish," Sergon said. "We will see you tomorrow." After a final glance around, Sergon left and the door slid closed. A few seconds later the overhead light in the high ceiling softened to a muted glow.

For a long while Qui-Gon lay silently, eyes closed, contemplating the recent events. Being captured by those in opposition to his work did not bother him all that much; he considered such incidents to be a normal occupational hazard. Even being cut off from the Force, while distinctly unpleasant, was bearable. His reaction to Xanatos was a different matter altogether, however.

Qui-Gon's need for absolution after failed missions went back a long way in his life. His own master, a tall fierce warrior named Dooku, had held his apprentice to very high standards. Dooku had believed that Qui-Gon was capable of great things and he pushed the young Jedi hard, fostering in him a need to succeed, with success being measured in missions completed, lives saved and favor from the Force, even when it meant using unconventional means. Dooku punished failures with the flat of his belt, the beatings growing more savage as the importance of Qui-Gon's work grew and the consequences of those failures increased. The young man had come not just to accept the punishments, but eventually to embrace them, needing them to purge his failures and regain his personal balance with the Force.

After his knighting, Qui-Gon's first year had been relatively uneventful, a typical series of initial assignments in which he had done well. Eventually the inevitable occurred, a mission gone awry and hundreds of lives lost as a civil war exploded. Even though the circumstances had clearly been beyond his control, Qui-Gon still held himself accountable for not having foreseen or prevented the bloodshed. When he returned to Coruscant, his first thought was to seek out his master, but Dooku was off planet on a mission. As his inner pain and imbalance grew worse, Qui-Gon found it difficult to meditate or sleep. He ended up wandering the lower levels of Coruscant and was drawn by seeming chance to a small discreet doorway. The guardian recognized that the disheveled young man did not have the kind of credits needed to gain entrance to this place, but he also knew his mistress's tastes, and had the Jedi taken to her rooms.

Madame Seronay was not the sort of flashing beauty who stood out on the street. It was not until you looked closer that you realized the slender female had a subtle, smoky exquisiteness that drew you in and dark eyes with ageless wisdom that had seen many things and embraced them all. When the young Jedi was brought before her, she recognized the wild, haunted eyes that exposed his tormented soul and she had immediately understood his needs. She took a liking to Qui-Gon Jinn, and offered to fill his needs, an offer that turned out to be mutually beneficial. Qui-Gon's name was added to the small list of the madame's personal clients who had admittance to the house at any time.

Whenever the fire burned in him, Qui-Gon returned to the madame. The first part of his session was always spent alone with her; she would whip him, and he would satisfy whatever her sexual desires of the moment were. Afterwards the madame would lead him naked by his collar and chain out to the main floor. Typically Qui-Gon would spend about forty-eight hours in the house, followed by several hours with the madame's excellent staff of healers, many of whom had Force abilities as well as all the latest medical technology. Qui-Gon was never allowed to pay a single credit, but it was nonetheless a very profitable forty-eight hours for the house; the madame was very careful to ensure that Qui-Gon's bounds were not exceeded and strictly enforced rest periods for him, but he craved pain and sex and there were many who were willing to pay handsomely to inflict one or both on a man of his imposing size and endurance. Qui-Gon would suck any cock or cunt or take anything up his arse if the madame demanded it. He only requested that if it was on the public floor instead of a private room that he be blindfolded, which heightened the sensation of being an object for other's use as well as masking his identity. His pain tolerance was also very high, and he usually was in great need of those excellent healers by the time his fire was extinguished.

As he grew older, Qui-Gon tried to fight this obsession that kept sending him back to the madame. He studied the Force, he meditated deeply, and even tried several sessions with a soul healer. Although he was eventually able to tolerate a higher level of failure, in the end nothing proved fully successful in relieving the need to purge himself of his perceived shortcomings.

Nothing, that is, until a senior padawan came to him three years ago to confess his love for his master. Even now that memory could bring a smile to Qui-Gon's face. Although Obi-Wan had been a comfort and source of pride to the master during his apprenticeship, it was not until that night that Qui-Gon had fully realized what a wonderful young man the apprentice had grown into. They had agreed to follow tradition and not formally bond until after Obi-Wan's knighting, but his love and strength had helped Qui-Gon to overcome his inner demons. He had never told his mate about the madame, and had believed that he had grown beyond those needs that had sent him to her.

Until now.

Qui-Gon stirred uncomfortably. He had never known that Xanatos had uncovered his secret, but he was even more disturbed by the reactions that Xanatos had started to create in him. Some of the old embers were beginning to ignite, carefully breathed to life by one of the few people who knew him well enough to find his weaknesses. The scheme to secure the planet's frelanium that Xanatos had put together looked quite likely to succeed, and the emotions and physical pain he had inflicted so far had evoked old memories and longings that Qui-Gon had thought long buried. Qui-Gon would have a fight on his hands to overcome his old needs if he could not escape and foil Xanatos's plans.

Thoughts of Obi-Wan intruded on Qui-Gon's reverie, concern for his lover's safety mixed with a fear that Xanatos might reveal his past shameful excursions into tormented sex. He wanted to keep that knowledge from Obi-Wan, afraid it might taint their relationship, and knew Xanatos would use that against him. His thoughts were going around in useless circles now, though, so he sighed and opened his eyes. He would have to try meditating later, but first he should check out his surroundings.

Qui-Gon stood up and looked around the cell. The windowless walls were a smooth featureless gray in the dim light. Qui-Gon shuffled around the perimeter, exploring every nook and cranny. He was finally forced to conclude that, without access to the Force, there was very little possibility of escape, so he returned to the bunk and sat down.

A brief burst of static rent the air, then an image formed on the long wall across from the prisoner. The picture quickly resolved into a newsvid. Qui-Gon recognized the commentator as one of the anchor newspersons for the main planetary news service. He listened closely as the sound came on.

"... police have not announced any progress in recovering the hostages, whose numbers have grown to nineteen after the latest raid... "

Pictures of a bomb-torn school building were followed by images of three teenaged boys and an older girl.

For over an hour the transmission continued: pictures of the initial college bombing, interviews with parents of the missing young people, pictures of the various hostages, briefings by the police, reports from various sites of other bombings, interviews with military and government representatives, a brief shot of Obi-Wan and the treaty delegates as they were entering the discussion hall, another police briefing on the hitherto unknown group of terrorists who had claimed credit for the kidnappings.

Qui-Gon sat on the bunk, leaning against the wall, manacled legs stretched before him, as he watched the transmissions. Occasionally he took a sip of water. When the news began repeating itself, he put aside the water bottle and settled on his knees next to the bunk to meditate. Within a few seconds the sound of the news died and a new image began to form on the short wall of the cell immediately in front of Qui-Gon.

Troops paraded down a broad street; lightly clad cheering humanoids lined each side of the street. As the soldiers passed a reviewing stand a tall figure in white saluted. Three young girls fidgeted on the stand behind the woman in white; as a man leaned down toward the girls there was a rumble, then a sharp crack as the stand exploded. Images of bloody street fighting followed, interspersed with speeches, streams of refugees and more fighting in dark forests. Qui-Gon exclaimed as he recognized the scenes; they recounted one of his more spectacular early failures on the planet Croonov. He remembered a decidedly smug satisfaction when he thought he had concluded a difficult treaty negotiation; the catastrophe that followed when an underground group he had failed to investigate had staged a bloody uprising had led him to undertake a longer-than-usual session at the madame's establishment.

Qui-Gon turned to face the opposite direction, hoping to ignore the distraction as he tried to meditate. The news show still played silently on part of the long wall. Within a few minutes a third image formed on the remaining blank portion of the cell's long wall. Qui-Gon recognized the new scenes as another example of one his failed missions. He tried to ignore the images on the various walls, but the sound kept shifting among the three scenes, just loud enough to be distracting. After another hour he gave up trying to meditate and stretched out on the bunk to snatch whatever rest he could.

The next three days settled into a recurring pattern.

Twice daily the guard team would take Qui-Gon from the cell, wash him down, feed him, apply more healing gel to his new tattoos and cuts, then return him to the cell. They were curt but professional, not allowing the Jedi any opportunity to break loose.

Inside the cell the newsvid was on continuously, while the two other images alternated between representations of various unsuccessful missions. If Qui-Gon tried to sleep or meditate the sound was turned higher, making it more difficult to do either. If he did manage to fall asleep, a raucous blaring horn would jolt him awake.

Near the end of the second day Qui-Gon developed a low grade headache from the lack of rest and continuous din and time began to lose meaning. This was coupled with a growing internal restless despair from his extended lack of contact with the Force and the increasing certainty that Xanatos's plans were coming to fruition as he waited helplessly in the cell. The images constantly reinforced his doubts and played on his innermost fears. Only his strength of will and faith that Obi-Wan might somehow find a way to foil the current plot kept him from giving in to despair.

Late afternoon of the fourth day finally brought a break in the pattern. The guards removed him from the cell and fed him, but then he was chained more tightly than usual in the corner. Instead of just a rinse down, the guards trimmed his hair and beard, examined him to ensure the depilatory had done its work thoroughly, and washed him from head to foot with herbal soaps. For the first time, a nozzle was inserted in his body and he was cleaned out internally, his guts filled with warm soapy water twice, followed by a warm clear rinse.

Qui-Gon patiently endured the treatment, tamping down his disquiet. Although the guards worked silently, he was certain the preparation meant that he would be seeing Xanatos soon. There was a part of him that dreaded the confrontation, but another part that was growing disturbingly eager.

The guards completed their work by applying a light layer of body cream, inserting a generous amount of heavy gel in Qui-Gon's anal passage, and putting the black metal cock ring back on. They then escorted him to the center of the room, chaining his ankle bar to the rings in the floor and his wrist bar to the overhead chains. The guards withdrew to the side, and everyone waited. Despite his best efforts, Qui-Gon felt his attention drifting; his eyelids grew heavy and his head drooped.

Eventually the main door slid open and Xanatos entered, clad in black boots, leggings and tunic.

Qui-Gon snapped his head up and took a deep breath to help focus himself.

Sergon stepped up and saluted smartly. "The Jedi is ready, sir."

"Very good, sergeant. Make sure your men get a chance to eat, but I want at least two on immediate stand-by at all times."

"Yes, sir." Sergon saluted again, then followed his team out.

Xanatos made a leisurely circle around Qui-Gon. He came to a stop in front of the Jedi master.

"Have my men been treating you well?" Xanatos cocked his head sideways, one eyebrow lifted.

"Given the circumstances, I can't complain much." Qui-Gon inclined his head. "They are quite well-trained."

"That is good to hear. And you are looking quite good as well. Good enough to eat," leered Xanatos.

"Is that your intention?" Qui-Gon stared back, his face a neutral mask to hide his churning emotions.

Xanatos stepped close, wrapping one hand around Qui-Gon's neck to hold him still. He leaned in and whispered in Qui-Gon's ear, "Is that what you want?"

Qui-Gon shivered as a hot tongue licked his ear. His cock twitched as he futilely tried to turn his head away. He pressed his lips together to suppress a reply as the tongue lingered along the edge of his ear before dipping inside. Sharp breaths escaped through flared nostrils.

"You want it." Xanatos laughed as he released Qui-Gon and stepped back. "But I'm afraid we shall have to delay our gratification for a bit." He pushed a button on his wrist band and along the side wall a large screen descended from the ceiling. An image began to form as Xanatos seated himself on the couch.

Qui-Gon recognized the scene as the interior of the discussion hall. All of the delegates were there around the heavy wooden table. His heart caught as he saw Obi-Wan. A question came to him, though, and he glanced suspiciously at Xanatos.

"It is quite real," Xanatos said with a wicked smile. "I told you I had the place bugged. Now pay attention. This should be an interesting meeting."

"If I could have everyone's attention, please." Obi-Wan raised his voice over the grumbling. "Thank you. I know we all understand the seriousness of the situation, and I appreciate your frustration at the lack of progress so far. It is possible, though, that we may finally have found a way to resolve the situation."

There was a jumbled chorus of excited comments and questions around the table.

Obi-Wan held his hand up for silence. "If you will let me proceed..." He waited until the room was quiet again. "It seems that not all of the miners support the group claiming to be the Mountain Freedom Fighters. Jera Mern has been approached by a delegation from the southern mountains who want to work with us to resolve the situation. Jera Mern, if you will proceed?" Obi-Wan nodded to the young southerner.

"As Knight Kenobi said, we may have a way out of this mess. As many of you know, we've always had fairly decent relations with the mining communities near us. We do a bit of trading, but mostly it's live-and-let-live. A few days ago some representatives from the southern miners came to me offering to help us. I believe they are sincere and we should pursue this opportunity. I have brought their leader here to explain in person." She gestured to a cloaked figure sitting along the wall.

Letting the cloak slide to the chair, a short stocky woman advanced to the table. Brown hair turning gray, brown eyes with crinkled corners, wrinkled brow and calloused hands told of a hard life. When she spoke, her voice had the innate air of long command.

"I am Vura. I lead the clan Sheon, and the other clans of our mountains have elected me to speak for all of us. Our people value our independence and until now we have kept to ourselves, content to work our mines, to grow what we could in our valleys, and trade for what we could not make for ourselves. We have been increasingly troubled, however, by what we have seen happening in the northern mountains. Refugees have been coming to us for years, telling of aliens offering rewards not just for the honest fruit of our labors, but for stealing from the farmers." She paused to look around the table. "When we learned of these latest atrocities, we decided to act. We do not believe in killing, and especially we do not believe in harming children."

"And what exactly are you proposing?" Jer Utorn asked suspiciously.

"We have many people who are familiar with the northern mines who have gone back there to gather information for us. We believe we know where most of the children are being held. We have very few military or police type forces, but we are willing to lead your forces to those locations to free the young people."

"That sounds good, but what are you asking in return?" asked Jera Breen.

"We are not so very different from yourselves," replied Vura. "We want recognition of our existing territories and our mineral rights so we can work in peace; we're not interested in what is not ours as the MFF are demanding. We wish to develop a better relationship with our neighbors and are willing to work with you to that end, but we also want to retain our independence and freedom."

"Don't you trade with aliens also?" asked Jer Utorn with a scowl.

"We only trade what we have worked honestly to produce," retorted Vura, head held high. "Yes, we deal with off-worlders if they offer a fair price, but we have no truck with thieves and killers."

There was an uproar of excited comments and side conversations. Finally Obi-Wan and Mern raised their voices to demand quiet.

"We have a tremendous opportunity before us," exclaimed Jera Mern. "These people are willing to risk their lives to help us. If you think about it, they are only asking in return what Master Jinn and Knight Kenobi have been working to help us set up for our people. Master Jinn is also among the missing, and I am recommending we honor his work by offering to include the mountain areas as another autonomous region in our proposed confederation." She looked around the table, creating eye contact with her peers. "As many of you may remember, from the beginning of the negotiations Master Jinn urged us to consider including the mountain people. Although this may not have been what he foresaw, we have the perfect opportunity for mutual benefit in a way that is fair to all."

Jer Evandro spoke for the first time. He was one of the oldest of the leaders and highly respected. "I believe Jera Mern has a valid point," he said slowly. "If these people help us, we must offer a fair return. Master Jinn has given us the structure to enable us to give these miners a place in our world, to give them a recognized boundary just as the rest of us now have. Mineral rights within their own borders should be a given, as well as the right to free trade. After all, protection of regional rights and better trade were key concerns that brought us to this table in the first place."

"If we are going to take action to retrieve the hostages, I suggest we move out soon," interjected Obi-Wan. "It has been my experience on other planets that this type of situation will only escalate and get worse unless we do something soon. Since the consensus is clearly that giving in to their demands is not acceptable, we must be prepared to use force. If Vura's people can provide guides, it will reduce the risk, but not eliminate it. Is this the course of action you intend to take?"

Obi-Wan put the question to each member of the group, going around the table. Some of the responses were enthusiastic, some somber, but all were the same. Even Jer Utorn, still scowling and drumming his fingers, reluctantly gave his assent.

"Very well, you are all agreed." Obi-Wan looked around, his expression sober. "I suggest you bring in the commanders of the military and police forces, brief them, and lay out our plans."

Xanatos thumbed off the sound, though the images from the hall continued. With a lazy smile, he turned his attention to his captive. "I thought that went rather well."

Qui-Gon still watched the screen. Although he was greatly relieved to see that his beloved had not been kidnapped or harmed, his insides roiled with sick horror as he realized that everything was coming to pass just as Xanatos had predicted. His own work was being turned to evil purpose and he could not prevent it. He closed his eyes, his head sagging forward in defeat, this new proof of his failure rapidly consuming more of the remnants of his self control.

A hand caressing his stomach startled Qui-Gon and he raised his head.

"You're very quiet tonight," murmured Xanatos as his fingers traced the new scars on Qui-Gon's body. "Aren't you the least bit impressed with my progress?"

"You do seem to have put together an effective plan." Qui-Gon forced out the words, trying to stay unemotional, but after days of isolation and sleep deprivation, he was starting to have trouble focusing. A flare passed up his spine as Xanatos softly caressed the circle carved into his belly.

"Yes, it should work out well. Of course, it probably wouldn't have worked at all if you had not done such a good job of preparing the groundwork."

Qui-Gon winced at that jab. "You'll have to let the hostages go for this to work, you know."

"Of course." Xanatos sucked and nibbled on Qui-Gon's nipples for a moment. "That was part of the plan all along." One hand dropped low to fondle Qui-Gon's organ as his other hand roamed freely. "My agents will lead the soldiers to the caves where the hostages are, the 'bad' aliens will be run off, several of the most troublesome miners will be conveniently killed, the Glavonans will rewrite their precious new treaty to include the 'good' miners, and everybody will be happy."

"And where... do I fit?" Qui-Gon had to gasp the words. Between his growing arousal and mental fog, he was now having a great deal of difficulty focusing.

"I would have thought you could have figured that out on your own, Qui-Gon." Xanatos moved in close, grabbed Qui-Gon's hair with one hand and kissed him fiercely. When he released the kiss, he whispered in his captive's ear, "You are coming with me when we leave this planet in a few days, and I will be the happiest of them all."

"No!" Qui-Gon was energized by the thought of being stolen completely away from his mate and made a wild attempt to reject Xanatos's attentions, twisting against his restraints, trying to throw his captor off. His effort came to naught as he was stunned by a vicious back-handed slap. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

"That was a foolish thing to do, but it's nice to see you still have some spirit." Xanatos returned to the couch and sat down. "I think it's time you realized just where you stand, Master Jinn."

Qui-Gon moved his tongue against the inside of his cheek, tasting blood where a tooth had cut the tissue. He glared at Xanatos.

"You have lost this mission, Qui-Gon Jinn," Xanatos said coldly, "but I will offer you the chance to let your little boy-toy live."

"What are you talking about?" Qui-Gon felt paralyzed with dismay. He was close to accepting his own fate, but it would break his heart if anything happened to his beloved.

"I did more than just have the discussion hall bugged. There are explosives planted in several locations, including the guest quarters. Well shielded, of course; I couldn't have you discovering them prematurely." Xanatos leaned back, smiling. "One word from me and your precious Kenobi goes up in a cloud of flames."

"No..." Qui-Gon stared at the screen where the silent discussion still continued. "You wouldn't."

"I most certainly would. The only value Kenobi's life has for me is the power it gives me over you." A smile was on his lips, but Xanatos's eyes were dark as he pulled a small box from his belt. "All I have to do is enter the appropriate code, push this button, and Kenobi goes boom."

Qui-Gon reluctantly dragged his gaze away from the screen. He swallowed hard. "What do you want?" he asked hoarsely.

"You will be a good boy and obey me. I am going to release you from the chains and floor rings, you will crawl here to me, and suck my cock with that lovely mouth." Xanatos gestured around the room. "If you have any ridiculous ideas about escaping, remember that the room is monitored. The guards will flood the room with sleeping gas before you can get to the door." He crossed his arms, the control box prominently displayed in one hand as he toyed with the buttons. "It's your choice, Master Jinn. Serve me or Kenobi dies."

One last look at the screen, then Qui-Gon turned to look at Xanatos. Denied the Force, short of sleep, constantly pounded by reminders of his past failures, he was forced to accept that this mission could well be his biggest, if most subtle, failure. Perhaps not in the immediate future, there would be no bloody wars splashed across the newsvids, but in a few years when the toxic aftermath of frelanium mining began spreading through the water and air, his failure could end up killing an entire planet. His spirit was numb and his mind blank, overwhelmed by both disaster and the thought of never seeing his life-mate again. His body sagged in defeat as old fires sprang to life in his soul and he cursed himself for his weaknesses.

"I will serve you," Qui-Gon whispered. He hung his head in shame, knowing that he would not only allow Xanatos to take his pleasure, but that it would not be too long before he was begging for more, for pain and to be used, a scourge to beat his demon into submission, to wash away the memory of his guilt in blood and abuse.

There was a click, then the chains pulled away into the ceiling with a clatter. Qui-Gon stood numbly, head down, eyes closed. Slowly he sank to his knees, then began shuffling awkwardly forward, the wrist and ankle bars making it difficult to move. Finally he stopped when he saw the black boots in front of him.

"Good boy," Xanatos purred. He leaned forward to pat Qui-Gon on the head. "You understand that as long as you stay alive and serve me, your boy-toy will live, and it is your job to please me if you don't want anything happening to Kenobi?" He waited until Qui-Gon nodded. "Good." He unfastened his leggings and shoved them down far enough to release his shaft, which was already partially full. "Suck my cock." He spread his legs wide.

Qui-Gon moved forward, resting the wrist bar against the edge of the seat cushion, then leaning in until he could reach the organ resting in its nest of dark hair. He licked and suckled, quickly bringing the large penis to full hardness. Broad sweeping strokes of his tongue alternated with tonguing the head, bringing a moan of pleasure from above. Qui-Gon took the cock into his mouth and began sucking in earnest, moving up and down slowly at first, then gradually increasing the pace. He let his tongue glide along the underside, occasionally pausing to lick at the sensitive spot under the head. He focused solely on the task on hand, ignoring all other feelings. He felt two hands grab his head, fisting in his hair, as Xanatos began jerking his hips, forcing his rod in and out faster and faster. Salty fluid erupted into Qui-Gon's mouth; he choked a little but managed to swallow most of it.

Xanatos groaned as his orgasm hit, then sat quietly for a long time, his partially hard organ still in Qui-Gon's mouth. A satisfied smile lingered on his face. Finally he sat up, pushing Qui-Gon away. "Gavno, that was good."

Qui-Gon knelt silently, head down.

"You deserve a reward for being so good." Xanatos pretended to think for a moment, one hand rubbing his chin. "Let's see, what was it you seemed to like so much at the madame's house... ah, yes, I know just the thing." He reached down to pull Qui-Gon to his feet. "This way."

Qui-Gon followed, shuffling listlessly to the heavy rectangular pelsteel frame. He raised his arms obediently as Xanatos secured him in place, heavily padded leather cuffs on wrists and ankles to reduce the chafing the metal cuffs had started to cause.

"So magnificent..." murmured Xanatos. He amused himself for several minutes by licking and kissing Qui-Gon, moving from his ears, down his neck, nibbling on both nipples, tracing the newly formed scars with his tongue. He played with the rings on nipples and cock.

Qui-Gon tried to withdraw within himself, but his body began to gradually respond to the skillful enticements. When his captor began fondling his genitals, his penis started to fill and become snug against the black cock ring he wore.

Xanatos kissed upward while his hands played Qui-Gon's body and organ like a fine instrument. He licked the sweat from Qui-Gon's face, then captured his mouth in a deep kiss, keeping up the pressure until both men were breathless. He finally broke the kiss with a gasp and stepped back. He paused, drew a couple of deep breaths. "As much fun as this is, I did promise you a reward, didn't I?" he smirked. Passing behind Qui-Gon, he returned quickly and began inserting a black leather penis gag into Qui-Gon's mouth. He moved behind Qui-Gon to pull it snug. "Wouldn't want you to accidentally bite your tongue," he whispered mockingly in Qui-Gon's ear. When he stepped back in front of his prisoner, he held a long flat black leather strap. He caressed it lovingly. "I believe flat leather has always been your first preference in whips, has it not?"

Qui-Gon stared at the leather as Xanatos stroked it. His jaws worked around the gag and he felt the old familiar stirrings in his belly, the fire of need bursting forth from the ashes of time. His nostrils flared as his breath came faster. His cock leaped to attention when the leather was slid gently along his belly and under his balls. He looked into Xanatos's eyes and knew he was lost.

Xanatos smiled knowingly as he twisted one end of the strap around his right fist. "Time for some fun, my love." He moved around behind Qui-Gon, drew back his arm, and the leather fell with a sharp crack, leaving a streak of red skin in its wake.

Qui-Gon gasped at the sudden pain; it had been so long since his last session he had forgotten how deeply the hurt bit at first. For the first dozen strokes he was grateful for the gag to bite down on and muffle his cries as Xanatos striped the length of his back and buttocks. Once the endorphins began kicking in, however, his moans were of pleasure and need. He welcomed each new stroke, each one a step on his path of expiation as he began the long journey to reconcile himself with the deaths that would one day be added to his accounting because he had failed yet again. He welcomed the thoroughness and strength with which Xanatos wielded the leather strap; the pace varied, strokes landed from the top of his shoulders to the bottom of his thighs but never in the same place twice in a row, and occasionally the strap would curl around his sides or hips to flick against still sensitive new tattoos and cuts. Qui-Gon closed his eyes and let the pain flow through him. He ignored the trickle of sweat that stung his eyes as he ignored the hard cock that strained at its restraining ring. It actually took him a few minutes to understand when Xanatos finally stopped and he looked around in confusion.

"You are so beautiful like this, my love," Xanatos murmured as he stood in front of Qui-Gon caressing his flushed cheek. He tenderly wiped away the trickle of saliva that had slipped down Qui-Gon's chin from beneath the gag. "Don't worry, we're not nearly finished. I know what you need and it will by my pleasure to satisfy your needs. After all, that is what a good lover should do, isn't it?"

Qui-Gon shook his head, his consciousness still focused on another level, not fully comprehending the words. He felt the soft hands on his face, his nipples, his cock, but they brought no relief. A small whimper escaped from behind the gag.

"Do you want more?" Xanatos stepped back, folded his arms across his chest.

Even now Qui-Gon was not totally lost; there was still a last tiny shred of his mind that fought against giving in. The waves of pain beat against that last vestige of control.

"You get nothing more unless you ask for it," taunted Xanatos, a feral gleam in his eyes as he watched the conflict on Qui-Gon's face. "I have all the time in the world and will leave you here alone if you are not ready to continue to serve me."

The addiction won out at that threat and Qui-Gon shook his head, trying to speak through the gag.

"Do you want more?" Xanatos asked again softly, fingertips now caressing the length of leather.

Qui-Gon frantically nodded yes.

"Good boy. I shall be happy to oblige." Xanatos patted Qui-Gon's cheek before heading over to the table of sex toys. He quickly returned with an assortment of objects. First he applied nipple clamps, black to match the nipple rings. There was a chain between the clamps, to which he affixed a light weight. He attached a parachute weight to Qui-Gon's balls, letting the weight dangle between his legs. Next he carefully inserted a slender straight rod in Qui-Gon's penis; the rod had one wire leading to a control box and a second wire attached to a narrow dildo which was shoved roughly into Qui-Gon's body.

Qui-Gon welcomed the new distractions, small though each one was individually. He grunted when the dildo was inserted and shifted in his restraints as additional weights were added to his nipples and balls.

Xanatos dragged a chair over and seated himself comfortably. He held the control box that led to the rod and dildo and watched Qui-Gon as he began adjusting the knobs.

A small tingle was Qui-Gon's first indication the box was working. It stimulated his already hard cock and was mildly pleasant. The next setting, however, ripped through his body as current surged up his spine in a spike of fire.

For almost an hour Xanatos played with his toy. He varied the settings and varied the times between applications, watching as Qui-Gon trembled in anticipation when the intervals stretched out over several minutes. Twice he got up to add more weight to the ball chain; twice he got up to suck on Qui-Gon's sensitive nipples and cock and caress his body. Finally he cranked the knob to its top setting.

Qui-Gon screamed through the gag as the current tore through him. He arched his back, threw his head back and twisted in his chains. As the pain continued he bit deeply into the gag as his bladder involuntarily emptied, the rush of fluid pushing the rod out with its force, and the ball chain swung wildly. When the pain suddenly stopped he hung limply in his restraints, shaking, fighting for breath.

Xanatos used his communicator to call in two of his men. Together they carefully removed the gag, dildo, ball chain, nipple clamps and cock ring. They lowered Qui-Gon from the frame and carried him back to the corner. Xanatos and one of the guards used the hose to rinse Qui-Gon down, removing the sweat and urine from his body; the other guard mopped down the floor under and around the frame. After Qui-Gon was laid face down on the bunk in his cell Xanatos sent the guards out. He knelt down next to the bunk and caressed Qui-Gon's face.

"You were a good boy. So strong, so good," Xanatos murmured. "I have work to do, but I promise I will be back tomorrow. You rest for a while. And we need to start getting you properly stretched." Xanatos applied a heavy coat of gel to a large dildo he had brought with him, then carefully inserted the toy until it was fully seated. The dildo was attached to a leather strap hanging from a belt. Xanatos ran the other end of the strap between Qui-Gon's legs, turned him over and pulled the belt tight. The strap incorporated a heavy metal cock ring, extra wide to serve as a reminder rather than restraint, then belt and strap were locked closed. When he was finished, Xanatos kissed Qui-Gon tenderly, then left, the cell door sliding closed behind him.

The next twenty-four hours were some of the hardest Qui-Gon had ever had to endure. He was left unsatisfied by the relatively brief session with Xanatos and his nerves were on edge. He now had the additional burden of knowing that his captor had the ability to kill his beloved Obi-Wan and he had no doubt that Xanatos would carry out that threat. He was physically uncomfortable from his tender back and mentally wrung by the continuing play of the news and historical vids in his cells. The large dildo was no replacement for the thrusting hot cock he longed for.

The news vids served as a constant reminder of his present failure. Early the next morning came the first reports that fifteen of the hostages had been successfully rescued; late that afternoon the rest of the children were found. The images were filled with joyful reunions and glowing tributes to the southern miners who had stepped forward to guide the military teams through the complex of old caves. Qui-Gon watched for news of Obi-Wan, but got only a few brief glimpses of a worried face in the background behind images of a triumphant Jera Mern extolling the virtues of bringing the mountain region into the new planetary confederation. He tried pacing but the ankle bar frustrated him. Several attempts at meditation and sleep proved fruitless as the ever vigilant unseen monitors blasted the horn to distract him. By late afternoon he just wanted to curl up on his bunk with a pillow over his head and wallow in his misery.

The guards had to rouse the listless Jedi from his funk, ignoring his half-hearted growl of protest as they dragged him out of the cell. They fed him, then removed the dildo to clean him inside and out. This night they locked him in the large frame instead of the center of the room, secured the familiar black cock ring in place, then once more they all waited.

Xanatos entered soon after, his stride a triumphant bounce, a huge smile on his face. He dismissed the guards, then bellied up to Qui-Gon for a long, deep kiss.

"You don't seem very happy tonight, Qui-Gon," smirked Xanatos as he stepped back.

Qui-Gon didn't bother to raise his head, instead staring down at the floor, shoulders slumped.

"We can't have this, my love. I know just the thing to improve your mood." Xanatos went to his toy table, humming happily to himself. He came back to stand behind Qui-Gon, parting his hair to kiss the back of his neck, then kissing his way across both shoulders and down the long spine while two fingers played with Qui-Gon's opening, stretching it and spreading gel inside.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as Xanatos continued kissing and touching him. He grunted when a heavily lubed dildo was forced into his opening, then slowly inserted to its full length. He couldn't help responding, though, when slippery fingers sneaked between his legs to massage his balls and cock from behind while Xanatos continued to kiss and lick his back and arse. He felt his torpor slipping away as his cock began to fill. He drew a long shuddering breath when the long leather strap was flipped around his neck.

"Do you want it?" whispered Xanatos in Qui-Gon's ear. He twisted the supple leather tight as he pressed his body against Qui-Gon's back.

Qui-Gon swallowed hard as fire swept through him, wiping away any semblance of resistance. "Yes." A barely breathed reply.

"You'll have to do better than that," Xanatos murmured as he twisted the leather tighter. "Ask for it nicely."

"Yes, please," gasped Qui-Gon as his breathing was suddenly constricted. "I want it, please." He sucked in a deep breath as the leather loop was released. He stood still as a leather penis gag was shoved in place, the straps pulled tight.

The first crack of leather on skin was loud in the still air. As before, Qui-Gon suffered through the first dozen strokes before the endorphins began racing through his system, taking him to a different level of being. He gave himself over to Xanatos's control, content to simply exist in the moment. He closed his eyes and relaxed into his restraints, riding the wave of hormone-induced ecstasy. Again it took him a long moment to realize that Xanatos had finally stopped.

Xanatos smiled when Qui-Gon opened his eyes, muzzily shaking his head as he looked up. He recognized the dark dreamy eyes of the hormone rush and was in a mood to continue to indulge his former master. "Shall we find another toy to play with now?" he teased. He held up the electrical control box. "This one perhaps?" He laughed at Qui-Gon's decidedly negative nod. "I suppose not. You didn't seem to enjoy that very much." He held up a short riding crop and examined it thoughtfully. "I think this might do nicely, though." He advanced on Qui-Gon and brought the whip whistling down on a bare thigh. The muffled cry that rewarded his effort pleased him.

For the next half hour Xanatos alternated between fondling and kissing various parts of Qui-Gon's body and welting that body with the wicked little crop. He didn't break any skin, but the sharp blows contrasted nicely with the broad blows of the strap and he could see that Qui-Gon was still heavily in the spell of the pain. Finally, he relented and took Qui-Gon down to rest, laying him face down on a long padded bench. He sat down and lifted Qui-Gon's head into his lap, unbuckling the gag and tossing it aside.

"Such a good boy, my beautiful Qui-Gon," Xanatos murmured as he lifted away the long hair and used a wet cloth to wipe away sweat and the excess saliva that had leaked from under the gag. "You are so beautiful when you suffer." He continued crooning softly for several minutes, lightly massaging Qui-Gon's back, feeling the heat from the reddened skin. Suddenly he slapped a bare shoulder, which drew a cry and aborted upheaval from the prone figure.

"You have been a good boy tonight, but you were a bad boy last night."

Qui-Gon shook his head in baffled denial.

"Oh yes, you were. You pissed on my floor last night, and for that you must be punished."

Qui-Gon went still at those words. When he heard Xanatos announce that the proper punishment was a spanking, he was ashamed to hear the whine in his voice but even more ashamed of the throbbing in his cock.

"Please, Xanatos, I don't want to do that."

"I will not have any disobedience," Xanatos said sternly. "For that you will get a bare hand spanking over my knees."

Qui-Gon whined some more, but very shortly, face red with humiliation, he crawled over Xanatos's lap, balancing himself precariously with hands on the floor, his arse high. His cock dangled between Xanatos's legs.

Xanatos was enjoying himself immensely. He stretched out the moment by fondling Qui-Gon's arse, holding him firmly with his other hand planted at the base of Qui-Gon's spine over his new tattoo. Finally he delivered the first stinging swat, whaling away until his hand grew painful, then switching to a wooden paddle. The paddle had the added benefit that a good blow would jostle the dildo still in Qui-Gon's arse.

The upside down position made breathing more difficult. Blood rushed to Qui-Gon's head as he squirmed and jerked under the blows raining down on his buttocks and thighs. He gasped for breath but reveled in the pain, his cock now painfully hard. When the paddle would hit at just the right angle it would drive the dildo in almost far enough to rub against his prostate, so agonizingly close that it was feeding his frenzy. When the blows ceased, he tried to rub himself against Xanatos, but his captor was having none of that and abruptly stood up, dumping the quivering Jedi to the floor.

Xanatos looked down at his captive. Qui-Gon's arse was bright red, heat almost visible from the swollen skin, and a few tears finally leaked down across the flushed cheeks. He snapped his fingers, then grabbed Qui-Gon's collar, forcing him to crawl across the floor to a different apparatus. He lifted Qui-Gon and placed him face down on a short inclined padded bench. The back end of the bench was split to allow Qui-Gon's penis to dangle. He secured Qui-Gon's legs as wide as the ankle bar allowed, straps holding his thighs and lower legs down. At the front of the bench he secured Qui-Gon's arms and wrists, then tightened a broad strap that ran across his lower back. He stood back to survey the sight, and smiled at Qui-Gon's arse high in the air, ready for his taking. The back of the bench was the right height to either stand or kneel on the padded ledge. At the front of the bench was a padded seat with a back; it was on an adjustable slide so one could sit on the device and have one's genitals at the same height as the face of the being tied to the apparatus.

Qui-Gon lay quiescent on the bench, glad for the respite. Pain pulsed through him in waves which seemed to emanate from his throbbing erection. He felt the heat rising from his arse and back, heat which only fed his inner fires. He seemed to hear flames roaring in his head, but knew it was only the racing of his blood. He could feel sweat forming in little droplets, trickling down various parts of his body, some of it starting to collect on the bench beneath him. He was puzzled when Xanatos made no further moves, but he was beyond rational reasoning. He turned his head so he could watch his tormenter.

"Wondering what is next, I suppose?" Xanatos smiled. "Don't worry your head about that." He spoke into his communicator in a low voice, and seemed pleased with the response. He went to the door, which opened slightly, just long enough for someone to hand Xanatos a tall glass. He wandered back to stand next to Qui-Gon. He took a few swallows from the glass, then pulled the dildo from Qui-Gon's arse with a loud pop. He pulled a container of lubricant from beneath the apparatus, opened it and palmed a generous quantity. For the next several minutes Xanatos leisurely finger-fucked Qui-Gon with one hand while occasionally taking a sip from his glass or looking at a chrono on the wall.

Qui-Gon continued to wait, almost in a state of detachment from his body. The easy rhythm of the fingers moving in and out of his body was almost soothing and he relaxed under the spell. When the main door slid open, he saw a woman in loose brown leggings and tunic stride in and head for Xanatos. He felt there was something familiar about her, then finally realized that it was the woman he had seen in the discussion hall, although her hair was no longer grey and she had applied makeup to look younger. His suspicion was confirmed a moment later.

"Welcome, Vura. Right on time, as usual," said Xanatos. He continued to casually finger-fuck Qui-Gon with three fingers.

"Punctuality is a virtue, my mother used to say. Anyway, it's good to get away from all those miserable farmers." She made a disgusted moue, then turned to look at Qui-Gon. "So this is your Jedi you've been mooning over all these years?"

"This is Jedi *Master* Qui-Gon Jinn," Xanatos said loftily, "and I have not been 'mooning' over him. He should have been rightfully mine in the first place. It just took a while to get him to understand that." He smiled. "But he is mine now, and that little Kenobi shit can go fuck himself."

"Last time I saw him, Kenobi seemed awfully upset about his stolen boyfriend. I wouldn't want to be in your boots if he ever finds you."

"He won't. And tomorrow I'm leaving things in your capable hands and heading home, taking my Jedi with me."

Vura nodded. "So, you meant it when you said I could play too?"

"Of course. I always keep my promises to those who have kept faith with me. You have put in many years of hard work here."

"Thank you. It will be a pleasure to get a little back on a Jedi for having killed my brother."

"I would rather he not be damaged too severely, so please use the leather strap." Xanatos withdrew his fingers and stepped back to watch.

Vura nodded. She took the long strap and wrapped one end around her fist. She grabbed a handful of Qui-Gon's hair, forcing his head up so he had to look at her. "This is for Voro, my twin brother," she said softly, "and for having to spend all these years on this miserable planet after he died. I hope all you worthless Jedi bastards rot." She dropped Qui-Gon's head, then proceeded to wield the strap for several long minutes. Cunning blows, vicious blows, angry cutting blows, up and down Qui-Gon's back and arse, with an occasional underhanded swing on his dangling member. The torrent was far worse than Xanatos's methodical play, fueled as it was by hot emotions. When Qui-Gon was writhing and begging for mercy, Xanatos finally called a halt.

"Enough, Vura. He won't be able to move tomorrow without a healer as it is, and I have other future plans for him."

Sweating and panting, Vura threw down the strap and stood gloating over her handiwork, tossing insults and taunts at the moaning Jedi. She slowly undressed, then looked once more at Xanatos. When he nodded, she seated herself at the front of the apparatus, sliding the seat forward until her genitals were in Qui-Gon's face. She grabbed his head and lifted it.

"And this, Jedi, is for me. I have all night for you to get it right. Now suck." She dropped Qui-Gon's head, spread her legs wide and leaned back comfortably with a smug grin.

Qui-Gon swallowed hard. He hesitated a moment too long and a sharp slap on his rear was his reward. He dove in, mouth open, and began vigorously licking the wet lips.

As he worked, Qui-Gon could feel fingers in his opening, cool gel spreading along his crack and inside him. Slick hands held his arse cheeks apart as a hard hot cock poked at his hole, then slowly eased inside him. This was the fulfillment Qui-Gon had been waiting for and he opened for the invader, trying to push back against the restraints to welcome the intruder. The cock continued its slow steady progress, filling him, owning him when the entire length was fully buried in him. Hands grasped his hips and hot flesh was joined to his.

"By all the little gods! It's just as good as I imagined it!"

Qui-Gon could hear Xanatos behind him, felt his stillness as Xanatos filled him and claimed him. He heard the heartfelt groan of satisfaction as Xanatos began very slowly pulling out, a groan echoed by his own soulful rumble.

A raking slash across his shoulder drove Qui-Gon's attention back to the task before him. He used his mouth and tongue to try to please Vura. He sucked and nibbled on the engorged clitoris, then used long swipes of his tongue to caress the folds of tender skin, alternating with running his tongue deep into the moist opening. Moans of passion began to reward his efforts.

Behind him Qui-Gon could feel the hard cock moving in and out of his body, the rhythm alternating as Qui-Gon clenched his muscles to milk the slick rod. Excited curses came from behind him as the cock began sliding back and forth in long strokes.

The dual assault continued for many minutes and fueled his own greedy lustful compulsion as both Vura and Xanatos proved to have a great deal of stamina and pent-up need. Qui-Gon's face was covered in viscous secretions as he lapped, sucked and tongued Vura's genitals while Xanatos pounded into his arse almost like a machine. Time was meaningless as Qui-Gon's world centered around the sensations assaulting his being; the pungent musk in his nostrils that complemented the sharp tang in his mouth, the mingled moans and cries of ardor the penetrated the blood thundering in his ears, the sweat salting his wounds with sparks of pain punctuating the pulsating agony that was his back and legs, the blood and sweat slickened skin of his belly and chest that rubbed against the leather bench beneath him and the throbbing in his swollen organ. Above all was the sweet cock steadily plunging into his body that fed his lustful fever.

The movements grew faster as passion quickened. Qui-Gon had to work harder to keep pace; Vura's hips rocked under his face as Xanatos began thrusting harder, short jerky strokes that pushed him forward and back. Finally there was an explosion of dual orgasms; thighs clenched around Qui-Gon's head as Vura screamed; the hard cock in his arse pulsed as Xanatos slammed into him with a roar, then slumped over his back.

The room was quiet except for the sounds of labored breathing and Qui-Gon's quiet groans of unsatisfied need. He felt the softened cock slip from his body as Xanatos eventually stirred.

Qui-Gon's face was still in Vura's crotch; he tried to discreetly spit out a few pubic hairs when a rough command to "Clean it!" sent him back to work. He quickly licked away all of the fluids he could find as Vura carded one hand through his hair. He became aware of Xanatos finally lifting himself off when a rush of cooler air wafted over his rear. He grunted when a large plug was roughly shoved into his opening. From a corner of his eye he saw Xanatos come around to stand next to Vura. He was wiping himself before tucking his spent cock back in his leggings. Finally Vura was satisfied with his work and pushed the seat back on its slide.

"You were right," Vura said languidly, "he is good."

"He is better than good, he is excellent," smirked Xanatos. "I plan to keep him in good health so I can enjoy that excellence for many years to come."

Qui-Gon couldn't repress the small whimper that escaped as his painfully engorged cock cried for attention.

"Are we neglecting you, love?" Xanatos crooned mockingly. "You're right, I should take better care of you. The least I can do is clean you for the next round."

Xanatos released Qui-Gon from the apparatus and together he and Vura helped him over to the corner. He rinsed off Qui-Gon with warm water, leaving the plug in place. With a laugh he turned a stream of cold water on the unsuspecting Jedi's groin, which only partially deflated Qui-Gon's cock.

"Your turn will come eventually if you are a very, very good boy," Xanatos leered. He stood for a moment, then smiled wickedly. He gestured to Vura and they steered the stumbling Jedi towards the leather sling dangling from the ceiling.

Qui-Gon was too dazed to protest as he was spun around and lifted into the sling. The bottom was well padded, but he still cried out as his painful back made contact. Xanatos quickly secured Qui-Gon's legs and arms up in the air.

"Now isn't that a lovely sight," said Xanatos as he rubbed his crotch. "We shall have to have another go with that lovely arse soon."

An urgent tone sounding from his wrist communicator caused Xanatos to turn away. Vura glanced his way as she donned her clothes.

"Well, take care of it," Xanatos said angrily into the comm. He listened for a moment. "Alright, alright, I'll come. But if this turns out to be just another glitch in the system I will have someone's head on a platter." He snapped off the comm and stomped over to the toy table before moving to where Qui-Gon lay.

"As much money as I pay these people you'd think they could take care of a little perimeter problem" Xanatos muttered as he placed a heavy black blindfold over Qui-Gon's eyes. He placed a kiss on Qui-Gon's forehead. "I will be back later." He fondled Qui-Gon's penis until it was hard again. "Just a little something to remember me by."

Qui-Gon heard two sets of footsteps cross the floor, then the swoosh of the door opening and closing, then all was silent. He lay in the sling, his back and cock throbbing, the plug in his arse not nearly enough to satisfy his need for hard hot flesh filling him. He allowed himself a self-pitying moan as the sling gently swayed.

Pain. Pain and a frustrating need so hurtful he would have offered himself on the street to the first taker. After Xanatos left, Qui-Gon spent a fruitless hour struggling against his bonds. The chains jangled uselessly as he tried to free himself, but the locks held secure. He couldn't even get the blindfold off, no matter how hard he tried. Eventually he lay gasping for breath, sweat dripping, his focus centered on the empty longing filling him. The pain in his back was his only distraction in the darkness, overwhelming even the exhaustion from the sleepless days and nights.

So absorbed was the prisoner that he didn't notice a vague bass rumble, or the faint vibration that ran through the walls. He knew only the blackness that surrounded him. Occasionally he would squirm against the soft slick leather, deliberately trying to increase the pain in his upper body in the vain hope that it might lessen his fixation on the scorching fire in his nether regions. He could not tell if the wetness against his back in the sling was the result of his sweat or bleeding from the wounds Vura had inflicted, but the resulting miasma made breathing difficult.

A distant pounding eventually broke through Qui-Gon's self-absorption. He turned his head, trying to identify the sound and from which direction it came. Silence fell again, and he was slowly fading into a gray fog when the sound of the door opening made his heart leap into his throat. He held utterly still, his energy directed to listening.

A short quick rush of footsteps was followed by more silence. During the long pause Qui-Gon thought he detected faint breathing. Finally hesitant steps came his way, raising his hopes.

Footsteps, slow but firm, steadily became louder until they stopped near Qui-Gon's head. A short silence, then the footsteps paced around him. Qui-Gon followed the progress of the sounds as they twice circled around him. The unknown figure was definitely breathing harder now; Qui-Gon was certain he could detect a rough catch in the breathing.

A slight movement in the air was Qui-Gon's only warning of a hand descending to grasp the collar around his neck. He felt knuckles against his throat as the collar was pulled several times. Fingers ran along the chain running to his right nipple, then fingertips slowly traced the tattoo that surrounded the nipple. Qui-Gon squirmed a bit, arching his back as the fingers played with his nipples, alternating back and forth and skimming lightly over the rows of thin lines carved between them. He moaned when the fingers moved lower, now tracing the new scars on his belly. Finally he could stand the silence no longer.

"Please," groaned Qui-Gon. "I've done everything you asked. Please fuck me."

There was a gasp of breath as the roaming hand was snatched back. Slow footsteps moved away.

"Don't leave." Qui-Gon tossed his head. "Please, I need you... please fuck me." He sobbed, a quiet desperate plea.

The footsteps hesitated, stopped, paused, then slowly returned.

Qui-Gon started when a hand grasped the base of his organ. He whimpered as a second hand slowly worked the black cock ring off his sensitive genitals, then sighed in relief as it finally came off and his penis was gently released.

"Thank you," he breathed. He started to panic as the footsteps moved away again. "Please," he called. "Please don't go. I want you... I need you." He started to squirm in the sling.

The footsteps quickly returned. A hand on his belly pushed down to still him. When Qui-Gon quieted, the hand was removed. He felt a brief pressure on the anal plug, then it was pulled out. He heard a dull thud which was almost lost in the sound of blood roaring through his ears as his excitement and trepidation mounted. When cool gel was slathered around and into his opening, he tried to buck up in his eagerness, which caused the sling to sway.

"Please fuck me now," he begged. "I need it ... need your hard cock inside me."

A hard hand grasped one hip to steady the motion of the sling, then a pulse of lightning flashed through Qui-Gon's body as a large cock pushed through his opening and plunged into his body. He welcomed the invader, relaxing his passage to speed its progress.

"Oh yesssss," Qui-Gon moaned in relief. He savored the fullness, the heat of the hard rod that impaled his body. "Fuck me ... fuck me hard."

His pleas were accommodated as the cock in his arse pulled out, then drove back in. Qui-Gon yelled in joy and tried to push back as the cock began moving in and out, a fast rhythm that seemed to vibrate Qui-Gon's entire body. He felt hot sweat dripping onto his belly as two hard hands grasped his hips, his own sweat trickling under the blindfold as his feverish blood raced. He moaned and begged for more, babbling in his eagerness as his consciousness centered on the cock driving relentlessly in and out, skin sliding against skin. He was vaguely aware of the grunts emanating from near his groin as hot flesh slammed against his own.

Qui-Gon reveled in the ignescent pounding. He felt his own organ throbbing from need denied too long. He bucked and moaned when a slick hand grasped his cock and began pumping. It took only a few moments for his candent body to erupt, his back arching and cock spurting as a kaleidoscope of blazing colors exploded behind his eyes. He lay helplessly enthralled as his body continued to be used, the invading phallus jerking in several hard rapid thrusts before loosing its own fluid in the hot channel.

The long silence in the room was broken only by two sets of rough, ragged breathing. In the distance several explosions sounded. Another explosion rocked the room. Qui-Gon was only vaguely aware of his surroundings and lay quiescent as his bonds were shaken. He heard a rough curse, then the igniting of a lightsaber. Still firmly blindfolded, he was uncaring as heard the sizzle of the lightsaber cutting through metal. He went limp as a pair of arms encased in rough cloth picked him up, carried him, then carefully deposited him on his side on soft cushions. A heavy layer of cloth settled over his body as he drifted off in a deep daze.

The pounding rush of several pairs of feet sounded at one end of the room.

"Ah, there you are, Knight Kenobi. I was beginning to think we had lost you."

"I'm fine, Jer Utorn. I found Master Jinn but I don't want to move him until I can examine his injuries. Did you find Vura?"

"I'm happy for you, Knight Kenobi, about your master. I'm afraid I've bad news about Vura, though. We caught her with a dozen of these off-worlders in a hangar trying to escape to a ship. When we called on them to stop, she started yelling obscenities and shooting. We killed them, but two other small ships did manage to escape."

"So it looks like we were right about her then. It was a good thing we decided to follow her."

"Aye, I'd say she was definitely in with them. I knew it was too good to be true." There was a grim satisfaction in the rough voice. "That control room we found was pretty badly blasted, but I have had a report that our boys managed to salvage some of the computer records. I'd bet a year's crop that woman has been working for those off-worlders all along."

"I suspect you're right, Jer Utorn. Can you handle the mop up while I take care of Master Jinn?"

"Of course, lad. You just call when you're ready and Anter will send one of the medical teams with a stretcher."

"Thank you."

Qui-Gon lay still as reality tried to penetrate his foggy brain. "Kenobi?" he pondered. "He can't be here." He tried to think as footsteps faded away again and silence fell. As the cloth over him was moved aside, he rolled to his belly, then flinched as a hand gently touched his back. Fingers traced the tattooed letters at the base of his spine, then withdrew with a savage curse. "Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon recognized the voice now, and with a muttered curse of his own he snatched for the cloth to cover himself as he rolled back up on his side thinking Force, how can I face Obi-Wan like this?

There was another silence. Qui-Gon tried to withdraw into himself, to pull the mental fog around his mind like a blanket, but was yanked back by the sound of a muffled sob. He finally reached up to work loose the fasteners for the blindfold and pull it off. At first, even the dim light in the room blinded him, but then his vision cleared and he could see that Obi-Wan was several feet away, on his knees, head in his hands. He was softly rocking and cursing to himself. He and Qui-Gon looked up at the same moment. A frozen stare passed between them, then both tried to speak at the same time.

"Force, I'm so sorry –"

"Obi-Wan, I'm sorry –"

They both stopped and stared at each other again. Qui-Gon opened his mouth but couldn't get any more words out.

Finally Obi-Wan crawled forward and crouched next to the couch on which he had placed his former master. "I'm so sorry, Qui-Gon." He hung his head as words came rushing out. "I'll do whatever you want.. just please can you ever forgive me." He laid his head down on the cushion near Qui-Gon's side.

Qui-Gon blinked, working to comprehend what Obi-Wan had said. "I don't understand. I was going to apologize for failing this mission.." His voice choked for a moment, "and for hiding things from you."

Obi-Wan raised his head, the befuddled expression on his face mirroring that of Qui-Gon's. "Failure? The mission is not a failure." He shook his head. "Utorn and I were suspicious of Vura and her offer; he was just suspicious because he's a curmudgeon, but I finally started to listen to all those warnings you had tried to give me about the mountain people and trying to bring them into the discussions." He stopped and swallowed hard. Obi-Wan looked down as a flush flooded his cheeks. "I was trying to apologize... I took advantage of you when you were tied up..."

Qui-Gon reached out with one hand under Obi-Wan's chin to tip his head up. "That was you?"

Obi-Wan nodded, biting his lip. "I'm sorry, Qui-Gon," he whispered. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"It wasn't Xanatos?" Qui-Gon was still trying to wrap his mind around the concept that his kind and gentle lover would have even considered doing such a thing.

"What I did was worse than Xanatos kidnapping you and hurting you," Obi-Wan murmured as he tried to turn his head away. Moisture glimmered in his eyes as his hands gripped the edge of the cushion. "I was supposed to rescue you, take care of you, not abuse you like that. I have betrayed your trust in me." There was just the tiniest bit of frustration in his hoarse voice at the master's denseness. "I'm trying to apologize to you."

"Of course I forgive you. I'm very happy you fucked me, in fact. I'm just trying to understand why you fucked me."

Obi-Wan winced at the crude language, a reminder of the recent encounter. He tried to pull back but Qui-Gon grabbed his tunic and held him close. He closed his eyes and murmured, "You were pleading... I couldn't resist. It was so hot... and I couldn’t stand the idea of you wanting someone else to do that to you instead of me."

"What?"

"Dammit, I like rough sex," Obi-Wan said miserably, staring down at the floor. "I've dreamed about you like that... tied up, you know..." he swallowed hard "and I wasn't strong enough to resist when you started begging."

"You like rough sex?" Qui-Gon asked. "But... why didn't you ever tell me?"

"You've always been such a considerate and thoughtful lover. I didn't want you to think I was, well, a weird pervert or something." Obi-Wan slumped a little lower, hot points of crimson flooding his cheeks. "For years I've had fantasies about you... on your knees... taking a belt to you... tying you up.... I've even –" his voice broke and he had to swallow hard. "I've experimented with others, pretending they were you. Then tonight... gods, when I saw you there, and you begged, I just couldn't stop myself."

Obi-Wan's knuckles gleamed white from his fierce grasp of the cushions. "Force, I love you so much, Qui-Gon," he whispered roughly, "You've never even asked about the kinds of things I dreamed of... I didn't want to risk losing your love by having you think less of me."

"But I like rough sex, too. And experimenting," said Qui-Gon. "When we first became lovers, though, I didn't want to hurt you, and you always seemed to prefer plain sex." He shook his head. "I didn't want to push you or ask you to be more aggressive because I didn't want you to think our love depended on what we did or didn't do in bed."

Obi-Wan raised his head and stared at Qui-Gon. "You like...?"

"Yes." Qui-Gon nodded vaguely as he finally released his lover's tunic. "I just never... you know..."

Obi-Wan barked out a laugh as he leaned back on his heels. "Well, haven't we been two of the biggest idiots in the galaxy. All this time walking on eggs around each other, each one making the wrong assumptions." He shook his head and snorted. Suddenly a thoughtful expression crossed his face. "Wait a minute, what did you mean when you said you were happy I fucked you? And why were you begging? You couldn't have known it was me."

It was Qui-Gon's turn to be embarrassed. "Well..." he started, but the words stuck in his throat. He looked away as he licked his lips. "Yes, I did think it was Xanatos." He stopped again, bit his lower lip. There was a long silence. Finally he started again. "There are some things about me I haven't told you."

Obi-Wan stared expectantly. He leaned forward, kneeling beside the couch, face level with Qui-Gon's.

"For a very long time I was not able to completely deal with my shortcomings on missions. It started when I was an apprentice; my master used to beat me when I failed." Qui-Gon closed his eyes for a moment. He took a deep breath. "I grew to need the pain, to want the pain, and then pain and sex. It became my way to purge myself of negative feelings, to atone for my failures. I was ashamed of sneaking away to do these things, to have things done to me, but I wasn't strong enough to resist the need."

Obi-Wan leaned in closer, gently touched Qui-Gon's face. "You are a strong Jedi, a good man. But not everyone can succeed all the time. You don't have to punish yourself for failing, especially when so many of our failures were beyond your control."

"I tried to tell myself that. I studied the Force, I meditated... I did get better, but after a very bad mission the obsession was still there." Qui-Gon opened his eyes, hesitantly reached up to touch Obi-Wan's hand. "Until I met you. Your love was so strong, so pure, I haven't needed that kind of release. I thought I was finished with it, that I could bury it away in the shadows and pretend it never happened."

Obi-Wan held Qui-Gon's hand, softly kissed the back of it. "What happened here, Qui-Gon? What did that bastard do to you?"

"Xanatos never got over his obsession with me. He's had people watching me all these years, scheming for ways to make profits from our work. It turns out that he has been working on Glavona for quite a while and we didn't have a clue." Qui-Gon paused, clutched Obi-Wan's hand. "Years ago Xanatos learned about my... problem. He found out when he was still an apprentice by following me to the place I used to visit." He stopped again and squeezed his eyes closed as he remembered the painful sessions in his past.

"That is all over now, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan murmured soothingly. "What was he doing on Glavona?"

"He had a perfect plan." Qui-Gon opened his eyes and looked up at Obi-Wan. "He was using the work we did putting together the confederation treaty. He had planned everything, from using the northern miners as the villains, kidnapping the children, having the southern miners come to the rescue - all of it. Vura has been working for him for years, building her position as leader of the southern miners. Everything was perfect. Xanatos waited until the treaty was almost ready and then struck. He kidnapped me and was going to take me with him when he left the planet. He told me about his plan and let me see the newsvids. I could see everything he predicted coming true. He kept taunting me. In my cell he showed the vids from almost every unsuccessful mission I've had, wearing me down. I couldn't meditate, and they wouldn't let me sleep. By the time he finally started to inflict pain me, I wanted it." He swallowed hard and looked away. "I had gotten complacent on this mission; if I had been vigilant and listened to the Force, I would have seen the workings of the dark side and would have known better than to fall into his trap. Now a planet full of people were going to die because I didn't do enough. I wanted him to hurt me, to use me, to wipe away my guilt."

"What are you talking about, Qui-Gon? What could Xanatos do that would kill that many people?"

"Frelanium," Qui-Gon whispered. "There are huge deposits under the mountains. He was going to use the treaty we worked on to guarantee the mineral rights under the mountains, then come in and strip it all out to sell." He added bitterly, "My fallen apprentice was going to make millions of credits off his old master's work. It was the perfect revenge."

"Frelanium!" Obi-Wan nodded. "I understand now. You're right, if that mineral isn't mined very carefully and slowly the toxic impact can be devastating. But now that we know about it, we can prevent the exploitation and ensure it is mined properly and slowly."

"From everything I could see in here, though, he had won, Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon. "I tried to resist..." He squeezed his mate's hand, pulled it to his chest. "Xanatos had planted bombs in our quarters and threatened to kill you," he continued hoarsely. "That was too much for me on top of everything else. I would have done anything to save you and he knew it. I went to him, crawled to him... life without you was unthinkable even if it meant letting Xanatos take me with him as his slave."

"Oh Force. I'm so sorry, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan murmured.

"He played with me, hurting me, but it was not enough," Qui-Gon continued, eyes staring blindly ahead. "He made me service him... let Vura whip me and I had to service her as well. I needed sex, and he finally fucked me, taking his pleasure, but never letting me have release. It just triggered the need for more, but he left me hanging in that sling. When you came in, I thought it was Xanatos returning. By that time I was desperate. That was why I was begging you to fuck me. I needed it so badly I would have let anyone take me." Qui-Gon turned his face into the cushion and closed his eyes. His voice was muffled as he continued. "I'm ashamed that I was so weak, ashamed of that kind of need. Can you forgive me, Obi-Wan?"

"Of course I forgive you, Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan grabbed Qui-Gon's head in both hands and forced him to look up. He leaned in close. "I love you, Qui-Gon. I'm sorry I couldn't have rescued you earlier and saved you from having to go through all that. But I'm here now; Xanatos is gone, and you are safe with me. And if I ever find that miserable son-of-a-bantha I'm going to personally beat him to a bloody pulp." He softly kissed Qui-Gon's lips before releasing him.

"Obi-Wan, you are so good." A tiny hint of a tear gathered at the corners of Qui-Gon's eyes. "Force, I love you so much." He reached up to pull Obi-Wan's head down for a kiss.

Obi-Wan leaned in, putting one arm around Qui-Gon's shoulders to embrace him.

"Aaahhhg," Qui-Gon cried out at the sudden contact.

Obi-Wan immediately pulled back the cloak he had used to cover Qui-Gon and began examining him. He cursed softly at the heavily bruised and torn skin. "Qui-Gon, we need to get you to a medical facility. I'm going to call in a stretcher team."

Qui-Gon tried to protest. "I can walk."

"Scrudhocky! You' are not walking anywhere for at least the next few days." Obi-Wan retrieved his commlink from his belt and sent in his request. He pulled the cloak back over Qui-Gon. "We'll get you back for medical treatment and find some proper tools to get that collar off. And when we get back to Coruscant we can have the healers remove the scars and tattoos."

"Yes, Obi-Wan. I love you, Obi-Wan."

"And I'm not going to let you ever forget that," said Obi-Wan fiercely as he grabbed Qui-Gon's head carefully for another kiss, this one longer and deeper. He pulled back. "I can't promise you that the future will be perfect or that every mission will be a success, but if you ever believe that a mission has gone wrong because you didn't work hard enough or weren't good enough, you will come to *me*, not to some stranger!" He shook Qui-Gon's head a little as he scolded him. "If I can't talk you out of your funk, I will fuck you out of it if that is what you need. Do you understand me?" he finished sternly.

"I understand."

"Good."

There was a noise from the doorway.

Obi-Wan stood up and pointed a finger at the recumbent figure. "Now, the stretcher team is coming. You will behave yourself for them and are not to cause any problems for the healers. Is that clear, Qui-Gon?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon answered diffidently.

The medical attendant with the team administered a heavy dose of painkiller to the Jedi master. Qui-Gon relaxed as the medication took effect and he was carefully transferred face down to the stretcher.

As he was being carried down the long hallways, Qui-Gon thought to himself that he could get to like this assertive version of his lover. "So, Obi-Wan likes to top, does he," he mused.

Qui-Gon grinned as he drifted off into sweet sleep.

finis