Slave Boy

 

A.N. – It’s been an unforgivably long time coming, but I hope you enjoy the latest installment!

Warnings – Humiliation, exhibitionism, rimming, oral

 

 

The throne room filled with shrieks and cackling as the boy was carried in over the shoulder of a gammorean, his abused behind on display for all the room. Anakin felt as though his skin might burst into flames from sheer embarrassment... And Force knew what the new day would hold –

Sithspit, the night had passed! Padmé... Mom...

A chill went through his veins, coupled with mind-numbing fear and rage – the senator would think him dead and if she abandoned him...

Jabba bellowed with laughter as the young body was tossed into the cushions upon the dais, squirming as the fabric abraded raw skin. The chain was seized and Anakin couldn’t prevent his shoulders from flopping limply against the Hutt’s fatty folds.

 Lilae and the g’ruthian were already dancing upon the central floor, their gleaming skin reflected in the early morning sunlight. The g’ruthian female dipped her head and brilliant, snowy feathers fluttered about her shoulders like a cloud, to the howls of the audience...

Anakin felt his breath hitch at the sight, every vein in his body tingling...

The kawokian monkey burst into a fit of cackling, alerting all in the vicinity to the slave’s physical state, the girl turned to look, and the nineteen year old was close to tears from pure ignominy...

The hutt boomed, and when Jabba laughed the whole court would follow suit.

The girls halted in their dance and scrambled to the dais, the hoard of gruesome courtiers screaming out jeers and derision.

Anakin shuddered as their hands met his skin, but couldn’t fathom the apology reflected in their lovely eyes... His flesh went cold...

Hands – slender but strong – seized his ankles, and rotated him until his upper body dangled to the floor and the hutt could grasp his thighs, dragging him up his oily belly until the whole of the boy’s chest and stomach was lightly coated in foul-smelling grease. Anakin fought the urge to vomit, and wriggled despite the slaps he was dealt.

A faint whimper from the g’ruthian was the boy’s only warning, before the Hutt’s gargantuan tongue spilled down his legs and plunged inside him before he could so much as scream –

The girls bit their lips and stroked him pityingly, their soft hands a torment upon his skin as their depraved master lapped at the nineteen-year old’s spasming hole, thick saliva oozing down his spine to settle at the base of his neck...

And despite the outrage, the indignation of it – and the nauseating disgust – Anakin could feel a blush painting itself across his skin. Because... kriff, kriff, kriff... huge, pointed, hard, precise, then flat and spread, and wet and everywhere....

Vaping hell, he was sick – there was no way in all the universe that they could make him enjoy this – and yet the proof was displayed all across his own traitorous body...

The hutt flipped him on his back with a grunt, still lapping wetly, and Anakin couldn’t help his thrashing limbs as the soaked muscle drew itself free of his body, wove patterns along the stretch of pink skin just above the opening, and... and...  no, no not there, Force help him, if that – that thing touched him there, he just knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it in, he’d burst like an engine on overload...

He screamed, he lashed out – and a bare foot caught the crime lord directly between his bulbous eyes...

 

 

The throne room went deathly silent, for perhaps several seconds – before Jabba emitted a booming laugh that might have awoken the tombs of Nar Shadda.

The court followed suit, cruelly, and through his rising dread the boy noticed the two dancers scuttling away from him, as though he might have contracted a deadly ailment – Beloved Force, what had he done?!

“Krech da so mokoto!” The hutt roared. “Da tek si’omok!”

Another chorus of hideous laughter swept the chamber, and as the guards heaved him bodily from Jabba’s perch, the boy felt something clutch at his arm –

The g’ruthian had tears in her jewel-like eyes, but he was hauled away before she could speak, down the stairway and into the blackness...

 

 

Miles away, amidst towering crags of sandstone, a young jedi master dragged a limp form beneath the shade of his fighter wing.

Several dead corpses lay nearby, beheaded or stabbed fatally. Their chittering and loud, honking screeches still rang in his ears – they called them “people”, but were they truly any better than animals?

His rage melted into worried compassion as he knelt to the sandy ground and took the woman in his arms. Scars crossed her back and face; dried blood was caked upon her clothing and matted her hair... Force knew how long those... things had been torturing her...

She mumbled weakly as he allowed a few drops of his emergency water to trickle into her mouth, and at last, her eyes fluttered open. An incoherent murmur left her lips, and he shushed her gently, stroking her brow.

“You’re safe... just lie quiet for now...”

Her green eyes seemed strangely unfocused, and he wondered for a moment if the pain had driven her to madness – before bloodied fingers caressed his cheek, and the two syllables she was capable of uttering left his blood cold –

“Ani...?”

 

Huttese –

Krech da so mokoto – The little one has spirit

Da tek si’omok – That can be remedied