Master Apprentice
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(continued from part 2)
"I'm tired of you in chains."
It's evening and Kryta is here once again. He sits on the bed, running his fingers along the chain from the bedpost to my wrist.
"I'm no longer enjoying you so restrained."
He unlocks the manacles, all of them. My arms and legs drop free of the tension and I exhale deeply as if I've been holding my breath all day. My limbs are tired and aching from the strain, but I am overwhelmed with relief.
"Good. I want you to feel pleasure."
He rolls me onto my back and I can see in his eyes that the games are about to begin again.
"Something has been bothering me." He leans forward, bending over my body and sniffs me thoroughly. "There is one scent missing on you."
I am repulsed by this inspection and press my hands to his shoulders to push him away. He does not budge. His body is solid and large, and he is intent on inspecting me.
"I smell three young lovers... Jedi friends no doubt."
His observation is curious and frighteningly correct.
"And there's Kemp, of course." His hands rub down my sides to my thighs, and he makes a guttural sound as he bites my stomach. "And that foolish Soji..." He licks my navel and rubs his cheek just above my groin. "I smell each of them, but still something is missing."
His eyes look up my body and meet mine. "There is no scent of a much older man."
My breath catches. He cannot possibly mean...
With a knowing grin, he takes my flaccid cock into his mouth. I cringe and tense, shutting my eyes and trying not to think about his tongue moving over my shaft and his teeth scratching me. His touch is expert, and just as my body begins to react under the attention, he pulls off and breathes heavily on my partial erection.
"I don't smell a Jedi master here." My eyes open and he is once again looking up at me. "Why is that, I wonder? Why hasn't your master taken you?"
My skin warms as he searches for the truth in my eyes, but I know he has already found that truth on my body. He takes me completely into his mouth again, down his throat, working me to complete hardness until I am shaking and fighting not to feel this. I twist under his weight and strike his head, but I am puny in his presence. He is determined and I am weak, and with little more coercion I am coming into his mouth, crying out in anger, not pleasure, hating that he can do this to me. That he has complete control over me.
When he releases me, I turn away, shaking, sweating and nauseated from the forced pleasure.
"Do you love him, Jedi? Is that why you've taken lovers? Because you can't have your master?"
He has seen my love for my master and I am ashamed. It is one more thing he has stolen from me, but it is my most precious secret. What else could I possibly still have to give?
"He will come for you, won't he?"
"No." The word is across my lips instantly, wrenched from my heart in fierce protectiveness. "He will not come for me."
Kryta smiles smugly. "I don't believe you. Apprentices are precious to their masters and to the Jedi Order. You shouldn't worry. Your master will come and you will tell me when he arrives."
"He will not come, and I will never betray him."
He laughs a cruel, false laugh. "I have many visitors to my court and your master will enter without difficulty. And you will betray him with your eyes."
"No," I say, but this time the word is but a breath. What madness it would be to have Qui-Gon come only to have his own apprentice betray him, hand him over to this monster.
Kryta sees my distress and runs his tongue over his teeth, revealing his fangs. "It's only a matter of time..."
His own household staff bring pause to his cruelty. Servants enter the room, interrupting us by presenting platters of food and setting them on the table at the side of the bed. They leave without a word.
He reaches for a thick wedge of cheese. "You must be very hungry," he says as he brings it under my nose.
Its scent is heavy and warm. He must know that I haven't eaten in a day, but I can't eat now. Not like this.
"Take this from me, and I will let you feed yourself."
I stare at the cheese in his large hand and then at the platter of delicacies. I am hungry and I know it is essential to maintain my strength, but my pride makes me hesitate.
"It is a simple enough thing," he says, now holding the cheese to my mouth.
My hunger wins out and I lean towards his hand and open my mouth. Of course this is too straightforward for Kryta. Instead of dropping the morsel into my mouth he places it between his teeth and then comes toward me. I pull back automatically, but am reminded by his narrowing eyes that I must do this in order to be rewarded with the small freedom of feeding myself. I swallow and shakily lean towards him again. He brings his lips to mine and passes the cheese to me while devouring my mouth. I pull away as quickly as he will allow and swallow the cheese.
"Now you may eat."
With a heavy heart I sit up. My muscles ache, my ass aches, my head throbs from fatigue and what I fear are side effects of the collar, but I have the small freedom of feeding myself. The meal is tasty in its variety of roasted meats, boiled vegetables and baked breads, but I am unable to enjoy it to its fullest. Kryta watches me the entire time--reclining on the bed and enjoying the power he has over me.
As I finish, he tells me to rest. He has guests, but will return in a couple of hours. He leaves without securing me to the bed, but I am suddenly too exhausted to move. Too late I realize he has drugged the food, but I don't care, and fall into a deep sleep.
I am back on Coruscant, in the Jedi Temple. I walk the halls feeling at peace, and make my way quickly to the quarters I share with my master, eager to announce my return. I enter our quarters and find my beloved master sitting on the couch reading notes on a datapad. As he so often does, Qui-Gon looks at me and gives me that comforting smile that reaches into my heart. The smile that tells me I am his precious one--his apprentice.
But as we gaze on one another his smile begins to fade. "Who are you?" he asks, his tone not one I am accustomed to hearing.
"Master, it's Obi-Wan. I've returned."
He puts down the datapad and stands. "No. My apprentice is innocent and of the light. Whoever you are, you are a mockery to all things Jedi."
"Master, truly it is I, Obi-Wan. They took me away from you..."
"You are a creature of passion. My Obi-Wan knows serenity."
Qui-Gon turns his back to me and I am blocked from moving any closer, but I call to him. "Master! Please!"
I wake gasping, my eyes darting about the room, confirming that it was only a nightmare. But unlike the bad dreams of my youth I have not woken to the loving embrace and kind words of my master. I have moved from one nightmare into another.
It is not long after when Kryta returns and the games begin again. He joins me on the bed. He is wearing only a robe and I fear it will be an exhausting, painful night.
"I have a surprise for you. I am going to take the Force-dampening collar off you."
I feel a surge of excitement and hope, but quickly temper this, not wanting to give Kryta any satisfaction.
"If you do exactly as I tell you, the collar will come off. At least for a little while."
"Why would you do that? I could access the Force again..."
"I know of your Jedi powers and they intrigue me. Just do as I say and it will be so."
I study him, and find neither reason to believe him or disbelieve him. And so, I nod. "Tell me what to do."
"It's quite simple. I want you to pleasure yourself. What could be more natural than that?"
I hadn't expected that, but the prospect of feeling the Force once again is motivates me. "How?"
"However you are accustomed to... so that you will climax."
I close my eyes. Is this what I have become? A slave to sex and a slave to the Force? But surely I can't pass an opportunity to feel the Force again. To have it in my grasp. To use it to escape.
"What guarantee do I have that you will uphold your end of the deal?"
"My word, Jedi. What more could you ask than my word?"
I should spit in his face, but somehow I believe him. "All right."
He leans back against a bedpost at the foot of the bed and grins ferally. "Any time you are ready."
I swallow hard and search my training for concentration techniques. Now that I don't have access to the Force I realize just how much I've relied on it--too much. I should be able to center myself and concentrate without its pulse surrounding me.
I stall for time by adjusting my position on the bed and let my legs fall comfortably open. I close my eyes to block out Kryta's presence and breathe in and out.
It's easy to remember all the mornings I've woken with an erection, and the sound of running water in the fresher. Qui-Gon in the fresher--wet, lathering soap over his massive, strong body. His hand settling on his own erection. He's thinking of me. Knowing I'm in my warm bed, stroking myself while thinking of him. There's just one wall between us. Each of us moving curled hands over our erections--wanting the other--dreaming of a time when we will be together.
Sitting reclined on Kryta's bed I am well focused on my fantasy of Qui-Gon. My hand has found my hardening sex. I stroke myself eagerly as I imagine my master's desire for me. His hand is pumping steadily over his erection and he is moaning my name. Again and again my name falls from his lips, "Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan." His head falls forward and he presses his burning forehead against the cool tiles. His orgasm is building. His need is building. He desperately wants me to come with him. // Please, Obi-Wan,// he calls to me through our training bond. // Please, come with me.//
And I obey. I come hard, calling out for my master as I spurt my seed all over myself and that bastard Kryta. When I open my eyes, my face still hot from my orgasm, the monster is stroking his own penis. I turn away, and then he is on me, rubbing his cock against my thigh and licking the come from my body.
"No," I whimper.
"Beautiful." He bites my collarbone.
I do not want him tainting my fantasy, but he is forcing my legs apart further. Oh gods, he's going to take me this way.
"No!" I cry out.
I concentrate on what little strength is left in me, and push against his chest. He laughs and grabs my arms twisting them and forcing them behind me, pushing me into the mattress while his other hands are guiding his cock into me.
"Get off you bastard!" My anger does not repel him as he violates me once again.
I try to kick him with my legs, but now he's thrusting into me and his second pair of hands are free to hold my legs down as well. I envision all the terrible things I'm going to do to him and Olan when I am free of these bonds. The anger builds in me with each deep, painful thrust. I grunt and breathe hard each time that vile cock rams into me.
I scream through clenched teeth.
"Why do you think... I unchained you?" he groans with each deep stroke inside me. "I wanted you to fight me... move for me."
I am gasping now, defeated by these games. Tears run down my cheeks. "Please, you gave me your word."
He comes--finally, loudly. Announcing yet another successful coupling with me to the entire wing of the castle. He collapses on me and I must suffer the smell of his hair in my nostrils. I do not want to know this creature any more personally than is necessary. I do not want to remember the scent of him years from now when I am on a mission to some distant planet.
There it is--hope. I am almost shocked by its presence. Somehow it still exists within me. I have imagined myself far away from here--a Jedi. Can it be true?
In moments, Kryta rises above me. He is straddling my hips. Two pairs of hands are running through his hair in satisfaction, while the other two are rubbing over my chest.
"You are small, Jedi. But you satisfy."
"You son of a bitch. What about our deal?"
"Hmm? Oh, the collar. It must be all you think about... getting in touch with your Force again." Fingers run along the collar and brush against my skin. "Yes, I will remove it, but there will be consequences if you misbehave."
I am already living with the consequences of my actions. What more could he possibly do to me?
He grips the collar in his hands and jerks me up to his chest as if to impress his power over me once again. I look him straight in the eyes and do not flinch. He gives a superior grin and then pulls a small key from his mouth. He's been keeping the key in his mouth? That would explain why I was spared his fierce kisses tonight.
In an instant he is unlocking the collar and it drops away from my neck. The Force rushes to me like oxygen into a dying man. I fall back onto the bed overwhelmed by the beauty and strength of it. Kryta is laughing at my state of bewilderment. I see colors I had forgotten existed--the colors of life returning to my body. My mind clears, focuses, and suddenly I am in control again. I have a chance of escaping.
Kryta is sitting above me, regal in his supposed power, but not so regal when I break him in two. I pull the Force to me, no longer letting it flood me, but controlling its current. I focus on Kryta and with a Force-shove send him flying onto the floor.
I jump from the bed. My legs are shaky, unused to standing, but I manage. In seconds he's on his feet as well.
"I see you're eager to demonstrate your Jedi tricks."
He is uninjured, but I have only begun. This time I send anything and everything in the room, soaring toward his head. Kryta ducks and holds his arms up to protect himself from the barrage of chairs, candlesticks, food platters--all cutting through the air directly at him.
He's not laughing any longer. "You've forgotten your end of the bargain."
There is no honor in his deals. I do not care what he thinks of me. I must get out of here. As a final re-payment for the torture he has suffered me, I send the chains still lying on the bed through the air at him. They strike him hard, so hard I know even the Great Kryta will see bruises.
Now is my only chance. I head for the door. It's locked, but merely a thought disengages the lock and the door swings open. The corridor is crowded with servants and guards, but I use the Force to clear a path for my escape.
I run down the corridor naked, but with the raw power of the Force tingling through me. I am nearly giddy with its strength, but not all-powerful. Without my lightsaber and without a true mastery of the Force it is only a matter of time before I face a problem I cannot solve with my still-growing Jedi abilities. But I know from my last attempted escape that Kryta has instructed his guards to use only tranquilizers on me. That encourages me.
I run with Force-enhanced speed through the castle to the landing pad.
There are several ships in the bay, but one is being refueled, so I lay my hopes there. I approach the ship and the guards see me at once, but are shocked by my nakedness. Their delay is my gain, and I am able to overtake them and knock them unconscious. The mechanics run from the ship, leaving it wide open to me.
I board the ship, but when I come into the cockpit, I see that the ship is not ready for departure. It is going through a warming cycle that I cannot override. I am not skilled enough in the Force to speed this process along, and must wait until the ship's control panel blinks green before the engines will give me enough power to take off.
As I wait, I close and lock the ship’s door, only to find Kryta standing on the landing platform in front of the ship when I look out again. He stares up at me from the deck, his purple robe cinched tight at his waist.
He rocks back and forth from heel to toe, barefooted, on the cold durasteel floor. "The game is over, Jedi,” he says through a commlink to the ship.
I blink, not seeing how I have failed. It will only be seconds now before the ship is ready. And that purpling bruise on his cheek marks my success even more clearly.
"They are counting on you to stay."
He waits for me to respond, but I do not. He turns and signals to someone out of my view. Suddenly there are dozens of his slaves and servants filling the space behind him.
"They will die, Jedi. All of them. And you will be able to feel each of their deaths. Isn't that so?”
My eyes widen as I scan the beings gathered. He can't mean this, but I know he is capable of any cruelty. He would kill these innocents and not give it a second thought.
My hesitation is enough for him to begin. A Noghri guard steps behind one of the unsuspecting and shoots him in the back of the head. Blood sprays from the dead man's forehead as he falls like a stone onto the platform. There are screams from the others gathered, many trying to flee, but the guards corral them.
I reel back, falling into the pilot's chair, stunned and sickened by the flash of pain and loss of life.
"More, Jedi?"
Again, the Noghri fires and kills.
I hold my stomach and force myself to stand, pressing the commpanel with a shaking hand. "Stop this, Kryta. They have done you no harm.”
“You are the only one who can stop this, Jedi.”
“That’s not true. This is your domain, my will means nothing here.”
“Ah, so you can learn!"
“If I’ve learned anything it is that there are consequences for every action.”
“And every inaction.” He nods and another servant is cut down.
“Please…” I stare at him, and he at me. I know what he is waiting for—my capitulation. I can hesitate no longer. Lives have been lost by my lack of humility. “I’m coming out.”
I open the hatch door, and am about to step onto the ramp, but torture myself by looking back at the ship's control panel. It is blinking green. I am a defeated man.
Halfway down the ramp Kryta's guards surround me, drag me back to him, and throw me at his feet.
"You've been bad my pet.” He grabs my face and squeezes tightly, until my eyes water under the sharp pressure. "Time to put you back in your mental cage.” An attendant hands him the Force-dampening collar.
“No… please, Kryta. I beg you not to do this to me.” He releases my face as though softening to my words. “Allow me more time without the collar… to heal my wounds.”
He shakes his head and grins wickedly. "You had your time and you chose to squander it by trying to escape."
"I won't try to escape again."
"I know. You won't have the opportunity again.” He signals to his Noghri guards who grab my arms, forcing them behind my back, and shackling my wrists.
Kryta steps behind me and I follow him with my eyes until he is out of sight. There is a moment when no one is moving, no one is even breathing, and then my head is yanked back in a fierce jerk as my knight's tail is grabbed by the Codru-Ji. He lowers his face to mine, baring his fangs, and I wince with the pain and the anticipation of more pain.
"You cost me four servants. I think you enjoyed feeling their deaths."
I swallow hard and try to shake my head in disagreement, but he's pulling my tail so hard I'm afraid he'll break my neck if I move.
"What was it like to feel their pain... feel their puny existence drain to nothingness?"
I shudder with the memory---the imprint of their last breaths on my soul. "You're the one who enjoyed it."
He grins and then kisses me fiercely as he slips the collar around my neck. In the instant it takes him to lock the device, I am swallowed by a deep emptiness as every living thing around me is shut off to me. I know I am still alive—I still think and breathe—but what does it matter when I can no longer reach out to life itself?
"Take him to the harem. I have no more use for him tonight." He pushes me hard to the floor.
The guards haul me up to a standing position, but I make them drag me through the corridors to the harem chambers--a small protest against impossible circumstances.
After meeting with the trader Simtar, I contacted the Temple Library for information on Olan Kemp’s employer—F’Kar Kryta. According to the retrieved data, Munto Codru is his domain—a planet where his ruthless collecting and insatiable needs are unhindered.
The brief message of intent I sent as I approached the planet was met warmly. The command tower for Kryta's lair outside the capital city of Codru has given me clearance to land at the Forbidden Castle's docking bay.
My heart is pounding. The planet Munto Codru lies beneath me. From space it is nothing more than a sphere of brown, green and blue. But it is my strongest hope of finding Obi-Wan.
In minutes I am landing to the greeting of "Welcome wealthy trader," and as I disembark from my ship several of Kryta's representatives meet me. None are Codru-Ji. They recite a litany of instructions and etiquette I must follow while visiting and explain that my arrival does not guarantee an audience with Kryta himself. I must wait, and I know that in this waiting I will become truly humble for there is nothing of patience in me now. I am close to my journey's end. I feel it in my weary bones.
They lead me across the docking bay toward the main corridors. Several workers are mopping a dark red stain from the floor. I stop to inspect their curious task, but one of the representatives hurries me along. "A fuel spillage," he explains.
I sense he is not being truthful. I sense... Obi-Wan.
A spike of urgency surges through my veins. Is this Obi-Wan's blood? Traces of his Force signature linger, but are oddly weak as though he was here and then suddenly not. I move along, resisting the urge to overcome my escorts and tear this fortress apart, room by room, until I find my padawan. But to succumb to that urge might only endanger Obi-Wan. If he is still here, I must use caution and leave myself open to the will of the Force. A path will present itself and until then no one must know I am here. No one must know his master has arrived.
Carina inspects me coolly as I am chained unceremoniously to a wall in the harem chambers. "I knew you'd be back. You were trouble from the start."
She turns to the bed slaves and raises her voice for all to hear, "Kryta has returned his pet Jedi. Now remember to play nice. We wouldn't want to mark him... permanently." She winks at me and then leaves.
It's the same as before. As soon as she's gone the others move in, but before anyone can reach me, a young man, my age or slightly younger, holds them off. "Not yet," he hisses, and signals for them to move back.
He must have status among them for they obey him without protest. He is quite pretty, almost feminine with his slender body, pale skin and golden hair. He is dressed in skintight leggings and both nipples are pierced with gold loops.
His brown eyes squint at me. "You think you're better than us."
I realize now that this boy has not done me a favor by segregating me from the others. He has his own agenda.
"A Jedi here to entertain our master. Who do you think you are?" He pushes his finger into my chest, emphasizing his words.
"I am nothing."
"Nothing?" he laughs. "You have distracted my master. You have done a lot of damage to be nothing."
He looks into my eyes as he runs his nails down my chest to my navel. I can only guess at what he sees, but he is making it very clear how he feels. His hand skims my genitals and then cups my balls. I swallow, chained and vulnerable to his whim.
"I was his favorite before you came." He squeezes my balls, still looking into my eyes. My eyes water under the growing pressure. And then he twists and I cry out unable to withstand the pain.
Carina storms into the room. "Vrit, let go of him."
The grip remains firm and his penetrating stare unwavering.
"I said let him go! You have been summoned."
There is a glint of satisfaction in his eyes and with one last squeeze he releases me. The relief makes me gasp.
"Get dressed and into Master Kryta's chamber. Now!"
With Vrit's departure, Carina turns the lights off and leaves. Hands are on me again. I keep my eyes closed and recite the Jedi Code over and over. It is little comfort from this Force-deprived existence and from the tongues that are licking me, but I must find some peace in this maddening place, left as I am, to sleep standing up.
A fitful, painful sleep finds me for a few moments here and there in the night. And in that sleep I dream I am chained to this wall with my head bent forward in fatigue and failure. And then Qui-Gon appears. The rush of his cloak wakes me as he walks up to me, lifting my head by my chin, and kissing me sweetly. I feel the brush of his beard on my cheek and sob at this small comfort--a tender kiss that is but a dream.
I am awakened by a nudge to my shoulder. It is Carina. "Kryta wishes to see you, though I don't understand why."
I do not know how much time has passed. She leans forward, unfastening my restraints and nearly touches my face. Her breath on my skin brings back my dream. Soft like my master's kiss.
"Qui-Gon."
"What?" She barks as she refastens my wrists behind me.
I do not answer, trying to hold the smile, the warmth inside me. This is the first good dream I have had since my ordeal began. And though I am cut off to the Force and my master, I feel hope rising within me. Could this dream be a whisper in the Force of his presence? Or is it only my desperation speaking? Can I hope that my master is here?
There is little time to dwell on the possibility of rescue as I am escorted back to Kryta's chambers. The guards open the door and push me inside, but do not follow. I stumble in and hear the heavy door lock behind me.
Across the room, on the canopied bed I see them--the very erect Codru-Ji with Vrit. The male sex slave is nearly audibly purring with satisfaction at having been chosen once again by his wolf-like master. He is wrapped snugly along Kryta's body, licking his master's nipple and lazily stroking the large penis. Kryta in turn penetrates Vrit with his finger and together they look on me with hungry eyes.
"Did you sleep well standing up, Jedi?" Kryta asks as he moans from the pleasure he is receiving.
I do not answer.
"I have a proposition for you." He removes his finger from Vrit's ass and pets his slave. "I'm in a generous mood and will give you a choice of pleasures today. You can have sex with Vrit, here and now, or you can wait to be chosen by a stranger this night."
"That is not a choice."
Kryta narrows his eyes on me. "Still pretending not to be broken?"
His voice is angry and annoyed, but he soon forgets his displeasure with me as Vrit takes his hard shaft into his mouth. The Codru-Ji groans and holds the young slave's head as he thrusts hungrily into his mouth.
"Mmm, I believe I will enjoy watching my guests fondle you. I have several potential trade partners dining with me this evening, and it is my custom to allow them to use a slave for the night. I will make certain you are chosen."
As his grunts grow more fierce, I turn my eyes away, disgusted by this carnal display.
"Look away now, but soon you will be just as willing as Vrit."
His cry of ecstasy pierces my ears and I look back to see Vrit swallow the demon's seed and then lick the penis clean.
"Vrit, take the Jedi to be prepared for tonight's gathering."
Vrit looks up at me from Kryta's groin nearly growling. He withdraws from Kryta's bed and no tenderness is shared between them--no kiss or small pat. Vrit slips back into his clinging pants and walks over to me, appraising me, and then commands me to follow him. At the door, the guards escort us the rest of the way to the baths.
I am not released from my bonds as I am made to stand on a tiled floor under a cascade of water. It sluices over my body from above, soothing me and taking my mind back to what seems a former life. Back to Coruscant and the Temple. Back to Qui-Gon. Again I have that feeling that he is near. But how can I know when our training bond is deadened by this cruel Force-dampening collar?
I am abruptly shaken from my thoughts and hauled out from beneath the water. Two young women towel dry me as I am approached by an obese man with small hands, wearing a long scarlet tunic and heavy eye makeup.
"Ah, yes, the Jedi," he says, making a quick appraisal of me. "I expected... more."
His hands are on me, squeezing my biceps, tugging on my braid. "I can work with this," he says, nodding. "Yes, definitely." He claps his hands, more servants appear and I am escorted into another room that is obviously a beauty salon. There are several stations where other slaves are already being primped for this evening's banquet. Vrit is here. Looking smug. Being treated respectfully by the other slaves.
A pair of light blue, sheer pants is held out to me. Obviously they expect me to dress myself, but I shrug and the attendant sighs in frustration.
"Sir O'tlm... the Jedi is bound."
The large man, who seems to be directing this operation, looks up from his work with Vrit. "Where are those guards? How I am expected to work under these conditions?"
In moments the guards are brought in and my wrist restraints are removed, but I have no desire to attempt another escape. There are too many lives at stake.
Again the pants are handed to me. This time I am able to accept them. Normally I would find them shockingly lacking, but after days of nakedness I am grateful for any cover. I slip them on and tie the drawstring snugly at my waist, only to have the attendant come rushing over once again.
He grabs the drawstring and loosens it. "Low on the hips," he says in a near whisper, re-adjusting them so that they feel as if they'll slide off me with the slightest movement.
I am directed to a chair in front of a large mirror. Who is that young man staring back at me? Staring with those tortured, sad eyes? I know too well that reflection is who I have become and I close my eyes against the image. I can not bear it. I want to scream at them all---the servants, Kemp, Kryta, but most of all myself. This is wrong! Don't you see I don't belong here?
I sink back, eyes still closed as I try to keep a grip on my sanity. The attendants allow me this self-imposed solitude and I am grateful. It is a small gift of time and a measure of peace. Though my eyes are closed I am aware of the activity--my nails are buffed, my hair gelled and something woven into my braid.
They must think I am playing a game with them for when they are done I am nudged and one of the girls gives a little giggle. "Look," she says.
Reluctantly I open my eyes and gaze into the mirror. They have woven a light blue silk ribbon into my braid and have added highlights to my hair as well as... glitter?
"Crushed gold," she says, seeming quite pleased. "O'tlm's idea." She nods to the heavy-set man directing this absurd ritual. He is seated in a plush chair watching the entire scene with avid interest.
I mistakenly believe this ends the primping and make to stand up, but am quickly forced back down. A middle-aged woman with prematurely gray hair arrives with a palette of paints. She is wearing a white flight suit and I can not help but envy that this must mean she has the freedom to come and go from this place. "Yes, blue complements you, but we need to play up your fair skin more." She leans toward me and whispers, "I want to show you off a bit. You're quite a beauty."
With that, she smiles and goes to work painting my body... highlighting it in unnatural, but somehow flattering colors. Deepest bronze nipples, desert sand collar bones and navel. Then my cheeks are brushed with the faintest pink blush and sprinkled again with crushed gold. My eyelids are dusted with the gold as well.
"And colorless gloss for your lips--understated, yes, but you make it work." She steps back, admiring her work and then leaves the room.
"Show time!" O'tlm says as he walks over to me.
I am finally allowed to stand and punish myself one last time by looking at my reflection in the mirror. "I look like a whore."
"Whores rarely have it this good," O'tlm reminds me and then nods for me to be chained again. I am herded into another room and given bread to eat while I wait with the other slaves for our summons to the feast.
The banquet hall is dominated by a long, low table. I am seated on the floor, on one of the many cushions, with the other prospective trade partners. The room is comfortable and also strategically planned. There is only one chair and it is not hard to determine who will occupy its place of honor.
Since arriving the previous night, I have been carefully observed. Despite my credentials, and handsome clothes, Kryta's henchmen watch me, watch all the newcomers, looking for flaws, slip-ups, whatever may single one out for rejection and punishment. Yes, I was warned of Kryta's strange ways. Of his rules both known and unknown, and of great rewards and torturous deaths. This is a man of extremes, and I have only come this far by dealing my hand carefully.
Kryta's associates come into the room now and servants begin pouring goblets of frothy Codru ale. I converse with those seated around me until I see the man I have been pursuing---Olan Kemp. He is physically striking and dressed in rich clothes and enters the room with a smug confidence. A surge of anger and hope rises within me. Anger for how he used and sold Obi-Wan into slavery. And hope for the confirmation that I am in the right place. If Kemp is here, Obi-Wan must be here as well.
I watch him, discreetly, knowing of the darkness of his heart. It would take little energy for me to kill him as we sit around this table. With just a thought I could strangle him, mercilessly cut off his supply of air, and then as his eyes begin to dim, break his neck. No one would be the wiser. No one would care. But I am Jedi, and I release these negative emotions into the Force. I must focus on my quest. I must be prepared and mindful so that I can rescue Obi-Wan from this place.
I return my attention to the lack of decoration in the room. There are no paintings on the walls or elaborate draperies, merely colorful cushions and gold-plated dinnerware. It seems an odd contradiction to Kryta's reputation for showmanship and domination. For a collector, this room is amazingly modest. Which is all the more confusing since it is the place where he feasts and entertains his guests. But then I realize as Kryta enters the room, that the economy of decor is well-planned. He is large, even by Codru-Ji standards, and is dressed in purple leggings and a purple vest embroidered with gold and precious jewels. His wealth and elegant dress is striking against the room's relative plainness.
He walks to his throne, followed by a small entourage of attendants and lastly a long line of slaves. I recognize them as slaves, because they all walk with bowed heads and wear a thin gold collar and little clothing over their painted bodies. Mine are but two eyes among the many watching this display of flesh. Kryta eases himself into his plush chair and grins ferally at the parade of his possessions.
And as if out of some strange dream the Force speaks to me. Though weak, a familiar pulse radiates toward me. I anxiously scan the line of beings still entering the room, my heart rate quickening. I know that pulse and have to stop myself from leaping up and seeking its source for myself. And then my breath catches. It is Obi-Wan... or a vision of him. He walks in at the end of the procession, looking straight ahead almost blankly. His face is painted and he is wearing only light blue translucent leggings... and he is chained. My heart sinks as I realize my apprentice is the only one wearing a heavy collar and chained from neck to wrists.
My hands clench and I resist the urge to take my lightsaber from its hiding place and strike down anyone who would dare stand between me and my padawan. But years of experience and training tell me to wait. Be patient. Many lives would be lost if I acted now. The moment for action will present itself and I will be ready.
I see now why his presence is dimmed. That is a Force-dampening collar and there is no telling what damage it has done to him. Though it is futile, I send him a message. // I am here, Obi-Wan. All will be well soon.//
My eyes follow him, unable to do little else, and I am witness to the moment he recognizes Kemp among the guests. There is no hesitation as Obi-Wan growls and rips away from the guard holding his chains. He leaps out of the procession toward Kemp. In a flash, he is on Kemp, striking the man with his bound hands, before the guards can respond.
"You bastard!" he shouts as his fists pummel the surprised Kemp.
"Get him off me!" Kemp shouts back, blocking the blows to his face, and oddly not striking back.
Kryta laughs and leaves it to his Noghri guards to handle the situation. I have never seen Obi-Wan so angry before. His eyes spark with a fiery rage and his fists clench in white-knuckled hatred.
The guards drag him, kneeling, to Kryta, and then his face is pushed to the floor by a large hand gripping his neck tightly. Kryta looks around the room and sees that we are all watching. Now he will need to perform in order to impress his wealthy and influential guests.
"This is my new pet... a Jedi," Kryta explains.
The guests murmur loudly, "Jedi." They are surprised and rightly so.
"He is not house broken yet."
The room erupts into laughter and I smile to conceal my concern and anger. My eyes are fixed on Obi-Wan's bent form. I can only imagine the cruelty he has suffered in the days it has taken me to find him, but I can do nothing yet.
"My employee, Kemp, brought the Jedi to me as a gift."
There are more whispers. More approval.
"But I see there is much animosity between them." Kryta smiles broadly. "Stand, Jedi. Let my guests see you in your new role as bedslave."
My breath quickens. Those in attendance are mightily impressed that the Codru-Ji has the power to hold a Jedi against his will. The Noghri guard loosens his hold on Obi-Wan and my padawan slowly rises. Then Kryta yanks on the chain pulling him forward, between his legs. Obi-Wan holds his head back, trying to keep his face from the Codru-Ji.
Kryta grins and leans forward, licking a wet path up Obi-Wan's neck to his jawline. "How would you like a chance to use some of that energy of yours?" he asks and then pulls Obi-Wan closer, wrapping two of his arms around his captive's waist. "Somewhere besides in my bed?"
Obi-Wan looks down at the Codru-Ji, contempt clearly written on his face. He has not been broken. Kryta snarls and pushes him away angrily, sending him to the floor with a hard thump.
"What say you to a little entertainment?" Kryta asks his guests. "A fight between the Jedi and my valued employee Olan Kemp?"
All eyes turn to Kemp who rightly looks appalled.
"But sir..."
Kryta raises his hand, silencing his employee.
I look back to Obi-Wan who is only barely managing to hold in his anger. He looks about the room defiantly at the bloodthirsty guests and then it happens... our eyes meet. Obi-Wan sucks in a quick breath and looks ready to leap up from the floor, but I am careful not to react. My calm holds him in place, but I can see he is struggling to contain his emotions. His lower lip trembles and he opens his mouth to speak, but just as he does Kryta reaches down and yanks his chain, pulling him up harshly. Standing before the Codru-Ji again, Obi-Wan's ass is slapped possessively and then Kryta announces that his pet and his employee will fight tomorrow... for our entertainment.
Obi-Wan's unexpected outburst, however amusing to those in attendance, does not interrupt the flow of the evening. Servants appear from behind hidden doors with platters of succulent foods and sugary treats. Obi-Wan is taken by the guards to sit with the other slaves while some of the more complacent slaves are brought over to feed Kryta. I am grateful that I will not have to watch Obi-Wan feed this self-centered fiend.
After dinner, Kryta makes small talk with us. There are five potential business partners here. He is obviously pleased by our need to do business with him. Satisfied, and looking a bit bored, Kryta offers each of us our choice of bedslave for the night. The others are quick to make their selections, but I decline.
My rejection of the offer is quickly seen as a rejection of Kryta and his ways. Those around me advise me to re-think my decision. In the meantime, one of Kryta's cronies rushes to my side and kneels next to me. "Sir Jinn, it is against etiquette to refuse the offer of one of Master Kryta's bedslaves."
I blink, having been unaware until this very moment that such a rule existed. "The offer is most generous, but..."
"Perhaps you are not satisfied by your choices?" Kryta asks in a commanding voice.
There is a feeling of dismay as guests, servants, and slaves alike hold their breath as they watch the scene.
"Forgive me, but I mean no disrespect. You have the finest harem in the galaxy."
He waves his hand dismissively. "I will choose for you..." He caresses the golden hair of the slave at his feet and then looks around the room at the remaining bedslaves. "None have chosen my special prize." He nods for one of the guards to pull Obi-Wan to his feet. "You shall have the Jedi."
Again there is a collective gasp. I don't think it even occurred to any of the other guests that they could choose Obi-Wan. With his chains and Kryta's obvious pride over him no one dared make such a selection.
"I can not accept..."
"You will accept or he will die."
This stops me. I look to Obi-Wan and can easily read in his eyes that Kryta will kill him. But would the man I am pretending to be care if a harem slave is killed?
"Surely no one will mind if there is one less Jedi in the galaxy," I say.
Kryta's yellow eyes bore into me. There is a moment of uncertainty and then... he laughs. His mouth broadens and fangs appear as a deep, sinister laugh pours from his lungs. And when Kryta is amused his court is amused. The room is suddenly filled with laughter. And as quickly as the joviality begins it is ended. The master raises one of his four hands and the room is hushed.
"It is understandable that you do not value the Jedi's life, but what of your own life, Jinn? I presume you would like to leave here in one piece."
All eyes are on me. Waiting for my response. Breathless in the half hope that I might refuse him again, and give him further provocation to tear me limb from limb. But my point has been made; I can now graciously concede.
"I most humbly accept your offer," I say with a slight bow of my head.
Kryta grins in his superior way and claps two hands for the servants to clear the table. It is the signal for everyone to retire for the night.
Kryta takes my master by the arm as if they are old friends. I follow close behind them surrounded by four guards. Following my master is second nature to me. I have done so for six years, and I had hoped to do so for many years to come. My eyes linger on his graceful form, and I am stunned by the confidence he exudes even in this impossible situation. I want to touch him. I want to reach my clasped hands out and touch his shoulder to know he is real. But I am afraid he would turn against me as he has in my dreams. He would growl and swat my hand away like I was some annoying insect. He has risked much to come here to my rescue and I doubt I will ever be worthy of him again.
At last we arrive at Qui-Gon's assigned chambers. Two guards remain outside as the rest of us enter. Qui-Gon walks into the room first, moving to the center before stopping and turning to face us. His presence is commanding, but Kryta is king here. The Codru-Ji puts his arm around me and tugs on my padawan braid. I look to my master for something, anything to tell me that I am still his apprentice, but there is nothing. His eyes are cool, blank pools of blue.
"Guards, chain my pet to the bed."
"That won't be necessary," Qui-Gon says.
I feel Kryta's grip on my shoulder tighten. "I've only taken him once without being chained and it was quite a bumpy ride. Are you certain you can handle him?"
I wait breathlessly for Qui-Gon's answer. Is he actually going to do this?
"I can handle him." Qui-Gon's tone is one I have heard him use on planet after planet during intense negotiations. I never imagined I would one day become the pawn to be bargained.
He walks to the bed and takes off his outer jacket. My heart is racing.
Kryta leans close to my ear, but speaks loud enough for all to hear, "You will satisfy my guest, Jedi, or I'll take great pleasure in torturing you to death."
"Isn't that what you're doing already?" I ask.
The back of his hand strikes me across my cheek and I raise my hands to protect myself from further blows, but no more come. It is enough that Kryta has struck me once so easily, as though I am but a child. As I raise my eyes and bring my hands away from my face, the first eyes I meet are Qui-Gon's. Now I see something there---pity. My world is crumbling.
"I want his wrists unbound," Qui-Gon tells Kryta.
Kryta nods at one of the guards who unlocks my wrists and pulls the chain away.
"I'm going to enjoy this." Kryta makes himself comfortable in a chair opposite the bed.
"You're staying?" Qui-Gon asks.
"Of course. The Jedi is my property and I'd like to see how he reacts to someone not as intimidating as I."
"But what about your other guests? Surely they deserve your attention."
"Are you refusing me again? My patience with you is growing thin." Kryta crosses two of his arms and puffs his chest out. He is easily twice the size of Qui-Gon already, and it is interesting that he feels this need to further intimidate.
Qui-Gon looks at me for a long moment. I see turmoil in his eyes. I see the many days and the hundreds of thousands of miles he has traveled to find me. And for what? To discover I have become a favorite bedslave to a wealthy trader? To find that my life is ruled by passion and that the Jedi ways are just a rapidly fading memory to me?
He will not move. He will not initiate this encounter. Perhaps he does not understand the gravity of Kryta's words. The madness that is F'Kar Kryta. Not wishing my master to come to any harm, I take the decision away from him and take control of this moment. I see it for what it truly is---a gift. A strange gift from whatever gods rule this place. A gift that will allow me to love my master the way I've needed to love him for so long.
For one night there are no rules. For one night, we can forget our lives as Jedi and just be two men---in passion.
I step forward, slowly, swaying my hips. He raises an eyebrow, but does not move. I slip my thumbs into my waistband and tug down---just an inch---until my leggings are hanging even lower on my hips than before. Kryta chuckles from his perch, but I ignore his presence.
Another few steps and I am inches from my beloved master. Inches from his body. Inches from his heat. I wonder how long it will take before I shatter his Jedi calm. Before I tear away the layers of control he's built for himself. Before he refuses me.
Without touching him, I stand for seconds, an eternity, looking into his eyes. There is so much I want to say in this moment. How sorry I am for disappointing him. How honored I was to be his padawan. How long I've loved him. How long I've dreamt of taking him. But words are too precious and too dangerous here. So I let my body speak its yearning.
// Please know this is for you, and not because he's watching.// The sent words go unheard, but they needed to be sent nonetheless.
My thumbs hook back into my waistband and I wriggle slightly to slide the leggings further down. Just as they reach the top curve of my ass his hands are on my wrists, stopping my progress. We stare into each other's eyes, searching for something... trying to communicate something. And then he leans towards me and presses his lips to mine.
My mind and my body spark with the intimate contact and I eagerly return the kiss, deepening it hungrily. I twist my wrists out of his hold and move my hands on top of his. The kiss continues as I guide his hands down, to strip off my only clothes. He lets me control this, and once the waistband has dropped under my ass, the leggings fall to my ankles, and he takes my bare cheeks in his hands and pulls me to him.
I breathe out, "Yes," and push him towards the bed. We tumble back onto the mattress. Our mouths are locked, muffling our moans... inviting.
I pull frantically at his clothes, anxious to feel my master's nakedness on me. His dark blue tunic is thrown aside and I bite down on his shoulder. It's fantastic. The taste of salt and musk on my tongue. The feel of hot, firm skin under my lips. I bite again and again... wanting.
My hands explore his contoured chest, tantalizing my fingers with the sensation of hard muscle and soft hair. His hands smooth over my back and buttocks, pulling me closer still. He is licking my ear, biting my earlobe, running his tongue down my neck. I arch back, moaning aloud, "Yes, take me," ... aching.
His large, familiar hands disappear from my body as they come around to unfasten his leggings. I help, eagerly pulling down the richly woven fabric. I watch with starving eyes as the beauty of my master appears before me. My Qui-Gon is fully erect... yearning.
I pull him to me with all my strength. Our mouths come together in a fierce, bruising kiss. I slide under him, my legs falling open. He is on top of me, between my thighs. We are rubbing, humping, grinding ourselves into one. "Easy," he tells me... hesitating.
His sweat-slicked flesh presses against mine. Rubs into me. I grab his cock and he gasps into my ear, licking me. I guide him to me, to where he needs to be. He presses against my opening, and I wince at the pain. He pulls back and looks into my eyes. "Do it or he'll kill us both," I tell him... stopping.
His lips fall on mine in a brief, light touch. His hand takes mine, intertwines our fingers. His cock presses into me. I squeeze against the pain, the joy of his entering me. His hard shaft pushes inside, deep, filling me. Harder... so full... so much pain... so much passion... hurting.
Thrusts are deep, burning inside me. I moan, scratching into the flesh of his back with my free hand. I tighten my legs, clench my jaw, and thrust back into him. Again and again are bodies meet as we are joined deeply in tight, painful heat. The pain lessens, the thrusts quicken... deepening.
He is pistoning into me. Raised up on his hands. His body above me. His cock fucking me. Harder, faster, faster. Yes! Gods, yes! I can't believe my master is fucking me. He screams his completion as his hips keep pumping, working me into orgasm. I come thrusts later... gasping.
He falls on top of me, our chests heaving, desperate for air. Too quickly the delicious weight of my master is pulled from me---out of me. I look up, dizzy from this ride, and see Kryta staring at me with two guards holding Qui-Gon back. I'm pulled from the bed and onto the floor. I look up at Qui-Gon, but Kryta backhands me again across the face.
"Jedi whore. I expect a repeat of that performance tonight in *my* bed."
I am grabbed by my braid and yanked to my feet. All I want is to stay in Qui-Gon's arms. Fall asleep in his embrace, but I am chained and taken away.
I fall to my knees as the door closes behind them. I'm facing the bed---shaking, sobbing. What have I done? My beautiful Obi-Wan, what kind of a monster do you think me now? Taking you like some wild beast---in lust and in passion when you were at your weakest.
I grab at the soiled covers and pull them to my face. I breathe in the scent of you---of our joining. My nostrils fill with musk and sex while my hands tremble at the memory. The sweetness of you even as I took you roughly will haunt me. My padawan, spread beneath me, accepting me---no, not willingly---forced to bed me for his new master.
With one last deep shuddering breath, I reach for my inner calm. This has gone on long enough--too long. Now I have become a pawn in F'Kar Kryta's wicked game.
As I stand, still shaking and trying to suppress the lingering delights of my padawan's body, I vow that another day will not pass before we are off this planet. I gather my clothes and dress quickly. I have much to do if we are to escape from this madness.
(continued in part 4)