The Wife's Chair

Part 2: The Dance


They spoke lightly, mere superficial social chatter, the Lady and the Jedi did. Teacups were handed over, plates of small savories passed, and, finally, the lace-porcelain platter of light, sweet cakes the aristocracy of Naboo was famed for was set out. Obi-Wan brushed powdered sweetener from his beard and leant forward.

"My Lady, you have been graciousness defined. But I fear I must shatter our convivial mood and state my true purpose in visiting."

A slight tightening of her hands was the only betraying sign. "Do, Master Kenobi. I confess to an unseemly curiosity for what has prompted you to make a return to Naboo after such long absence."

"There has been a terrible battle, a devastating battle." The corners of Obi-Wan's eyes contracted, and his voice lost its formal intonation. "Not that all of them aren't terrible," he hastened to add. "But this one... it seems worse, somehow. A small world, in a small, obscure system, not unlike Naboo. A peaceful, devout people with the misfortune to live on a planet rich in veins of a certain clay infused with natural lubricants. The Separatists have found that by forming and firing this clay into ceramic parts, they can produce self-lubricating joints for battle droids. These joints last 31% longer than conventional joints.

"The battle droids with these parts suffer fewer breakdowns and can perform for longer periods between maintenance. Naturally, the Separatists want every gram of this clay they can prize from the ground."

"Naturally," his hostess murmered.

"The people of Wens Nealor objected to their world being despoiled by Separatist strip-miners. The Republic responded promptly, but in the zeal to keep the materiel out of enemy hands..." His voice faltered. "I fear vast portions of their world was left uninhabitable," the Jedi concluded sadly.

The woman at his side nodded soberly. "And you wish to ask...?"

"...If you might authorize the construction of refugee housing on your family's lands. They are simple people: craftsmen, herdsmen, farmers-- the structures need only be plain and sturdy. The relocation is meant to be temporary; the Republic is already making efforts to decontaminate their homeworld so they might be moved back.

"We hope to split the survivors into three groups, so no one world is overburdened with refugees. We are not unaware of how onerous such an incursion can be. But we-- the Jedi-- hoped that if you supported this first wave, we might eventually place 10,000 upon Naboo, on the plains, grasslands, and estates."

His voice broke on the barest hesitation. "I volunteered to leave my other assignments to come personally to Naboo. I did not wish to presume-- that word again!-- upon our previous... acquaintance... but I did feel you were owed the honor of a face-to-face meeting, My Lady."

Impulsively, she reached out and placed her hand upon his knee. "Of course I shall lend my support! Do no look so fearful, master Jedi; I would not turn aside your request. In fact, there is an entire wing of this very dwelling that stands empty since my sister's marriage. Perhaps it could be used as a nursery or as a hospital suite!"

A great weight rolled from Obi-Wan's heart. He had indeed been fearful past events would color a decision to rebuff his plea. "I thank you, My Lady. The people of Wens Nealor will thank you as well." He dared to squeeze the small hand that still rested upon his knee. A small hand, yes-- but one with deceptive strength. There was much about this woman that was hidden beneath layers. "I will make arrangements to send a team to begin preparations. They will need to know where the first shelters can be located. And if there was a source of water, and of power...?"

She nodded serenely. "I will prepare a datapacket this very day, Master Kenobi."

He too nodded, patting, then releasing, her hand. He began to rise, then paused, taking up her hand again. "My Lady, I do not know if my involvement with this sentientarian endeavor will end with the securing of Naboo's cooperation. But will you not once more call me by my given name, Obi-Wan?" he asked plaintively.

Color flooded back upon her smooth ivory cheeks. "If you would return the honor... Obi-Wan," she whispered, peeking up at him through her long, sweeping eyelashes.

A strange, hot emotion he knew he should not be feeling flamed through the Jedi's chest. "Sabe. I have missed you so. It is wrong of me to have this weakness, let alone admit it-- but O! how I have missed you!"

Sabe's chin trembled. "As have I, Obi-Wan," she whispered.

Obi-Wan abandoned all intentions of subtly extracting information from her. "Why did you cut off all contact with me?" he demanded.

She pulled free her hands, jumping to her feet. "I? I had no part of it!"

"But you disconnected your comm! You did not answer my letters!"

"I received no letters. I had no comm access." Agitated, she began to pace the small floor space.

Obi-Wan rose to block her path. "Sabe, what are you telling me?"

She closed her eyes, swaying slightly under the weight of her formal garb. Obi-Wan seized her upper arms and steered her back to her chair. She sat, biting at her plump lower lip with small white teeth.

"Obi-Wan, I was a Handmaiden of the Queen of Naboo. As such, I had duties, responsibilities..."

"And to the best of my knowledge, you carried them out admirably," he interrupted.

Slowly, she shook her head. "Not quite," she said, her voice barely a whisper once more. Shame filled her velvety eyes, and she started to duck her head, then forced herself to keep it upright and meet the Jedi's gaze. "That day... in the dinnerware pantry off the secondary dining hall..."

Obi-Wan's expression warmed at the memory. "You were very willing," he said huskily. "As was I."

"I do not deny that. But... it was quite energetic. We were... vocal."

Obi-Wan lowered his mouth to her ear. "You rode me like a champion guarlara-jockey," he growled.

Although her cheeks colored, Sabe refused to let herself be distracted. "The palace was bugged," she stated baldly. "Every room, every nook... every closet."

"Every... " Obi-Wan's voice trailed off in dismay. Realization dawned in his eyes. "Oh, blast," he whispered. "Even the closets?"

"Especially the closets," Sabe said flatly. "I knew that there were listening devices, of course-- that was why we never rendezvoused in my chamber, remember? I did not know the extent of the eavesdropping, however. None of us did."

The Jedi's face had gone pale beneath his beard. "Every palace is rife with intrigue," he protested. "Did you not guess?"

"Did you, young padawan?" she retorted. "Obi-Wan, I was 15 years old-- I believed in my world, my queen... and their honor. I was naive despite my extensive training; I truly believed my queen trusted me."

"What... what happened?"

Her chin trembled, but she stilled it ruthlessly. "Nothing, at first. Then, after the Celebration, after Renewal was begun in the battle-damaged regions... she-- Queen Amidala-- called me in to her office. She was so cold, so icy..." Sabe shivered in remembrance. "I suspected nothing... until she said my name. My stomach dropped through the soles of my boots.

"Captain Panaka was there, standing at attention by her left hand. She did not invite me to sit. Instead, she bade him play the security recordings."

"Sabe. Oh, my Sabe..." Obi-Wan's guts turned cold.

"Every breath was clearly audible. The click of the door. The whispers, the laughter. The things we said to each other, about my breasts and belly, your cock. Our clothing rustling as we disrobed, and the rattle of the dishes as you leaned back and braced against the shelves." Her voice became strained. "Our moans. Our bodies' wet friction. Our passion."

"Stop!" Obi-Wan threw up one hand. "Please!"

"That is what I said," Sabe continued relentlessly. "'Stop, please, your majesty! Turn it off, I beg you, my queen!' But she did not yield. She played out the entire recording, through our orgasming, our breathless pillow-talk in the aftermath, our dressing and kissing and parting. All that, with the Captain of the Guard listening to our sexual gratification. I did not know that I squeak like a voorpak when I peak until that day in the Queen's receiving chamber."

Pale, dry-eyed, Sabe folded her hands. "I did not cry. I did not die, either, though I thought I surely would. When the recording ended, the Queen then chastised me for dereliction of duty. While I was consorting in dark corners with my paramour, she was endangered, no longer fully protected. While I was hidden away fraternizing with a lover, I was not available to step in at a second's notice to take her place as decoy. And while you were plowing me until I swooned, you were not guarding our Royal House. Furthermore, in time of crisis, we might have turned to save each other, rather than the Queen, as we were sworn."

She swallowed hard. "She dismissed me, and Captain Panaka escorted me that very day to this, my father's house. It was a great scandal-- no Handmaiden of Naboo has ever failed so as to warrant royal dismissal. Of course, the true reasons were never disclosed; Queen Amidala felt that it would be a breach of planetary security for it to become known that both a Handmaiden and a Jedi could be blinded to their duty by simple lust.

"And, of course, the secrecy only added to the scandal. The rumors were vicious. My father suffered in his contacts. My mother and sisters were deeply shamed."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "It wasn't simple lust," he croaked.

Sabe shrugged. "It is immaterial. The damage was done. My family went into seclusion. I was confined to my rooms. At first, two meals a day were delivered by a kitchen droid and I was alloted one hour's fresh air and exercise, accompanied by a family member to the enclosed back courtyard. Later, I was permitted a tutor, who schooled me until my education was complete. I was banned from politics, security work, and all public service. But it could have been worse."

Obi-Wan felt drained. "I don't see how."

"I was still technically a minor. My father could have beaten me sorely whenever he chose as punishment. I was spared that."

"Sabe, I am so sorry. I did not know."

"At the time, I did not see how you could not. I was sure the Jedi had been informed of our behavior as well. Queen Amidala was so terribly furious, I could easily believe she had contacted the Temple."

"I suppose it is possible she did. But in the upheaval after my Master's death and the discovery of the Sith..."

"Yes, I agree-- either the message was lost, or was disregarded as unimportant in the scheme of things. But at the time, I felt abandoned by you." She smiled sadly to take the sting from the words. "I was convinced the Jedi would dismiss you as well, and that you would come for me, that we would go off together. We would leave Naboo, and Coruscant, and settle somewhere quiet, perhaps Alderaan. We would make love morning, noon, and night."

"Oh, Sabe..."

"Upon time and reflection, of course, I came to understand-- you had been so careful not to utter the word 'love'. Even when you cried my name in the throes of climax, you did not say it. I realized the Jedi would not discard a trained knight simply because he had not yet mastered his libido. You would be scolded, perhaps, and told to break off contact, but nothing more."

"It was not like that!" Obi-Wan protested. "Firstly, I have been trained since infancy not to speak of 'love'. My heart is a human one, of course-- the Jedi cannot stop love, any more than they can stop the stars from burning, though they do try. They are quite effective at stopping me from acting upon it, however."

He fixed her with a stern glance. "And secondly, I had no idea you were suffering. I thought only that once we parted, your affections turned to some local young man. When you would not answer my letters, I concluded that I had been a convenient dalliance for the time I was on-planet."

"No." Sabe's face burned. "No, you were never that."

Obi-Wan subsided. After several contemplative minutes, Sabe stirred.

"I thought when you contacted me that you wished to reignite our affair. For eventually, I was let out of my rooms. Eventually, my sisters stopped asking my father to whip me, and they and my mother began speaking to me again. Eventually, I was given light duties and responsibilities, as long as I lived quietly, of course. I have become known in society again, and I thought you had heard my name mentioned and were reminded of our... liaison."

"I regret I was not more persistant in trying to reach you," he said. "Had I but known the break in contact was not of your choosing, I would have stepped in to shoulder the blame. I would have confessed to seducing you, to spare you the consequences of our encounters."

Sabe smiled. "That is very kind of you. But the recording told the true story: I was not seduced, but an eager participant. The things I said as I ripped down your trousers..."

"I remember." Obi-Wan's gaze grew warm. "They were most flattering to a young novice's ego."

Sabe blushed. "I was quite young then myself," she said primly.

"You were old enough, sweetness, you were old enough."

They fell silent again, this time companionably. Sabe sighed contentedly.

"It is good to see you again, Obi-Wan, and to talk with you. I would hear of your adventures of the intervening years if you would indulge me, but first, I would like to give you a tour of my suite. You will be able to see what my life has been, except for the last few years when my horizons began to expand again."

"I'd like that." He rose with her, tossing her a sly grin. "I am especially interested in seeing any other... artwork... you may have on display."

This time she did not blush. "I missed you," she said simply. "It is quite difficult to go from a life filled with sexual pleasures to a celibate one. I found myself titillated by erotic art that reminded me of our own encounters."

Obi-Wan raised his brows. "That coatrack looks nothing like me," he protested.

"The physical features, no," she agreed. "But I bought it for the figurative reminders-- the stance, the way he's leaning back a bit, bending at the knees to thrust upwards... that was you in the dinnerware pantry, with me astride your hips, how did you put it? 'Riding you like a champion guarlara-jockey'."

Obi-Wan had the grace to blush. He spun to the swirl-painting. "And this?" he demanded.

"The night by the palace pond," Sabe responded promptly. "Remember, the ground was most damp, and I could not muddy my gown by lying down. You taught me the 'zalaacas-in-rut' position."

"Of course." Obi-Wan stroked his beard. "And your dress stayed quite clean. The knees of my trousers, however..."

She giggled. "As I recall, you talked your way out of any potential trouble very skillfully by claiming you tripped in the garden."

"I always wondered if Qui-Gon knew the truth, though. I hadn't yet fully mastered shielding during moments of intense crisis." He touched her cheek. "And you were so flushed when you returned to the banquet hall from your ostensible 'cooling stroll'," he said softly.

Her lips curved in a womanly smile. "You had given me two," she reminded him dreamily. "Any woman would be flushed after such attentions." She sighed. "Those memories sustained me on many a long, lonely night in the years to come."

"I confess I too often revisted that garden in my mind," Obi-Wan said. "In fact, it was with your help that I explained erections and self-pleasuring to my own padawan."

"Master Kenobi! How could you!"

"I have no defense," he shrugged. "Anakin is an observant little lad. He caught me very early one morning as I relived one of our encounters."

"You shock me, Master Kenobi." But her voice was anything but shocked.

Arm-in-arm, all previous tension forgotten, they strolled through Sabe's flat. She showed him a carved greel-ivory mouth flute, with a slide reminiscent of a pair of carmine lips. When Sabe played upon it, the slide glided up and down the flute so realistically that sweat ran down Obi-Wan's spine.

She had a leather-bound folio of erotica drawn in ink; silently, they paged through it. Sabe pointed to one drawing.

"I purchased the set because of this particular drawing. I did so like the penitant way the woman is bent across the bed. You cannot see her face, so I could pretend it was me. And the man... it is not clear if the belt is in his hand because he is removing his trousers, or because he is about to thrash her."

"Surely he would not beat his lover!"

"Perhaps she has done something to merit it, something foolish and destructive. Perhaps she needs to feel the sting of leather on bare flesh to achieve atonement."

Uncomfortable, Obi-Wan closed the folio. "Corporal punishment is not the way of the Jedi."

"I see."

Turning to leave the second sitting room, the Jedi's eye caught an incongruous piece of furniture. Unlike the rest of the smooth, simple pieces in the suite, this one was complicated, of dark polished wood intricately carved. It appeared to be a sort of table, but without a top... or perhaps a strange style of bench, for at either end was a sort of padded leather seat.

And yet, as a bench, it would be most strange, for the seats were convex and awkwardly placed. There were some sort of handles on either side, and two pairs of widely spaced brackets below. A footrest was attached beneath each seat, but to make use of it, the sitters would have to perch back-to-back upon the bench.

All in all, it seemed quite the out-of-place furnishing in Sabe's sunny chambers.

He could feel a wave of defiant embarrassment rolling off of Sabe. Puzzled, he circled the object, but still could not identify it, or its purpose.

"Sabe, what is this? It is... most intriguing."

She lifted her chin. "It is a 'wife's chair'. It is an antique of Naboo's past, a prop for a custom no longer in wide practice."

"Ah." Its purpose had not become any clearer to Obi-Wan. She was being deliberately vague, but he felt compelled to pursue it. "What custom is that?"

"Such a chair would be presented to a husband upon his marriage."

"To the husband? Why, if it is a 'wife's chair'?"

"Because it was to be used by the husband for his wife's... correction."

"Correction?"

"Yes. And her wifely congress."

Light suddenly dawned. "Ah-ha! Then this padded seat..."

"...is for her to bend over, for punishment. See, she would step up onto this little ledge and bend forward, with the seat raising her hip area to a convenient height. Here are the handgrips, to discourage her from reaching back to shield her nether regions from the lash, and these brackets would hold up her long, heavy skirts so that her husband could have proper access."

"You mean to whip her on her bared bottom," Obi-Wan exclaimed, half-horrified, half-excited.

"Yes, of course. It was traditional."

"It was barbaric!"

Sabe shrugged. "Perhaps that is why the custom fell into disuse."

"What of the other seat, then? Did Nabooian husbands practice bigamy, and might have need of punishing two wives at once?"

"No, of course not! If you will observe, this seat is constructed somewhat differently. It is lower, at a slightly different angle, and the platform on which to stand is wider. Also, you will recall that I said it was for wifely congress."

"Oh! So, to accomodate..."

"...her husband behind her. Yes, that end she is bent over to be punished, and this end... to be pleasured."

The blood was pounding in Obi-Wan's ears. "Why in the worlds do you have such a thing?"

Sabe half-turned away. "You often called me your 'naughty sprite'. I felt wicked with you; we were engaging in wicked behavior, a 15-year-old Handmaiden to the Queen and a decade-older Jedi padawan on assignment. And you did paddle me that one time."

"We were play-acting!" Obi-Wan exclaimed. "You were pretending to be a brat, and I was pretending to be annoyed and put you over my knee for a good hiding! It was naught but a game!"

"And so is this... nowadays," Sabe pointed out. "An antique, to be a reminder to me that had things been different, I might have found a husband to discipline me, instead of a father."

He was silent, staring at the obsolete chair and the proud woman. "Would you wish to be punished?" he asked disbelievingly.

"I deserve it," was her surprising answer. "My foolishness endangered my world, my queen, my future, and my lover."

Obi-Wan struggled. He could not - she did not deserve to be beaten - the fault was equally his - and yet...

He had been angry when he'd thought she'd broken all contact. Angry and hurt.

But she was not at fault. And she had already been punished so much.

And yet she seemed to want it.

Sabe moved quietly to the right end of the chair. Stepping daintily onto the little ledge, she gathered hands-full of her bulky skirts, hooking the fabric into first one bracket, then the other. Reaching around, she peeled her undergarments past her hips, letting them fall down her taut thighs to pool at her ankles.

Face resolute, she leant forward, grasping the handgrips in her tiny hands and pulling herself up and onto the leather seat. Her toes just barely touched the foot ledge. Bottom exposed, she turned her head and gazed calmly at Obi-Wan.

"I am ready to take my punishment, my Master."

xxxxx continued