Slave Boy

 

Kyoona’s soft plumage brushed Anakin’s neck, rousing him from the latest of their post-coital naps. He groaned gently, stroking the swell of her hip, and let his lips trail up her shoulder. She was so smooth, and still damp with sweat...

A slight giggle raced from her throat as he rolled on top of her, kissing her neck, her breasts...

“Oh Ani... So young...”

“I want you –“ he moaned impatiently, like a little boy. “Please –Please!”

He was still begging even after he’d slid inside her, the channel milking him hard, and his pleas became inarticulate whimpers of primal delight...

 

 

He never learned who betrayed them. Likely it was one of the other girls – she probably received extra rations, or a standard week’s reprieve... Yet the knowledge, the idea that any being could wish another so much pain... He had seen cruelty, wandering the galaxy at his master’s side, but never had he felt it directed solely upon him...

Kyoona wept as the vibro-whip cracked down on his back again and again, his wails of pain met with derisive laughter from the courtiers. The welts throbbed against his spine, his skin burned – with humiliation as much as with agony – and the flush only grew more intense when a fanged guard wrenched his manacled legs apart, and something knotted, hard, and impossibly thick was shoved into him without ceremony, just cold brutality. Clawed digits locked the object in place, and the boy’s head spun – he felt huge, swollen, the blood throbbing within the skin stretched around the lifeless alloy in a steady cadence with his heartbeat... Trembling, he lifted his gaze to Kyoona’s tearful face, and managed a weak smile in reassurement...

The kwokian monkey cackled with glee, and the chain around Anakin’s neck became chokingly tight...

“Now dance for us, pretty,” The Hutt boomed. “Dance and sing, until the floor is drenched. Now.”

A vibro-spear poked the nape of his neck, and with a quiet whimper he began to rub himself against the sand. He’d always hated the substance... now more than ever...

The whip stung against his ribs as he wriggled in the cuffs shackling him to the floor, whining in discomfort and delight as the grains burned at his groin, teased his erect nipples, sent him into spasms whenever a particularly delicate spot was corroded too hard... Sweat bathed his skin, rolled off his neck in drops, his limbs shuddered, and finally his body went tense with a moan, muscles clenching around the object inside him – a dark puddle spread across the sand as he slumped down, gasping and twitching with the last aftershocks...

“Admirable. Bring him.”

Hands unshackled him, and he was stretched across the Hutt’s dais like a scrap of meat – which, he realized, completely amounted to his status...  A flabby hand caressed his cheek.

“What have you to say?”

He knew what was expected, Suenea had cooked his buttocks for hours until he knew the words by heart... His face flushed pink at the memory, and degrasion he was about to inflict upon himself... It was strange... Not so very long ago he would have accepted any discipline rather then endure humiliation by his own will... When had he begun to care so much over his own fate? How cowardly...

Tears wet his blush-painted cheeks.

“Your – Your pet begs your mercy, a–and your indulgence, Master... P-Please forgive him...”

Thundering laughter echoed through the chamber.

“You move me, little one... you truly move me...”

Blue eyes fluttered shut... Safe then, for now, in this den of treachery...

“And as for you, my lovely wanton...”

Kyoona’s lilting voice quivered...

“P-please...”

He could only watch helplessly, open-mouthed as the guards forced her to her knees in the wet sand, and her tear-soaked eyes met his quickly – he saw fear, unbelievable fear, yet grim resignation as well. And overwhelming sadness.

His breath quickened, eyes grew wide – no, no, force, no...

“Goodbye Ani...” she whimpered, moments before the floor gave way beneath her....

“NOOO!”

 

The merchant-traders were only too willing to talk, and abandon a good portion of their “walking wares” – it was astounding what power merely the wave of a hand could hold upon the weak-minded...

Shmi demanded to accompany him.

“Gangsters respond to logic, not authority. And besides, if he –“ She fell silent, her green eyes shimmering.

“I – I served those... slugs... for two years before his birth, and – what they- what they’ll have reduced him to.... he’ll respond better if I...”

She couldn’t force herself to continue, but Obi-wan understood.

Yet as she climbed behind him on the speeder, tightening her arms around him, her voice rose in a whisper.

“Answer me one thing....”

He turned his head, ever so slightly.

“Ani... is he handsome?”

He nodded shortly, and Shmi’s head fell, her eyes flooding with salt tears...