Current mood:	chipper
Entry tags:	ornamenti

Ornamenti: Part 15
Okay. This one comes with a disclaimer. The last we saw our hapless hero and heroine, they had been captured by henchmen of the Hutts: Jabba and Gardulla respectively. Anyone who has seen Return of the Jedi remembers the Twi'lek dancers and Leia's infamous metal bikini.

That's what the Hutts do with things that are pretty.
Prisoners are slaves and slaves are objects, intended for nothing but the pleasure of the Hutts, whether that pleasure comes from display... or display.

You have been forewarned. Now. Enjoy!


Part 15: In which the Hutts acquire two new slaves and Anakin does the noble thing.



The transport the horde carted them in was rust-brown, like the attacking aircraft of before, but much, much faster. Sand passed by the heat slit in a yellow blur, the aching hot blue of the sky a constant against the whipping mesas and swiftly-changing mountain terrain.
Eventually, the transport slowed, hinges squeaking and pistons pumping painfully as the whole torrid metal mass halted and docked against something much larger that still moved over the sand at a heavy pace.

Anakin and Padme had both been cleaned up of blood and grime, and redressed; Anakin had explained to Padme in dizzy soft undertones that the item Feen held was a Force disruptor, an object capable of pulling the very Force away from a Jedi, or any other sensitive being. The more powerful you were, the more it hurt. It was the reason he didn't struggle as invasive hands stripped him of his wet clothing and put him into gauze and silk and leather. Either that, or he'd decided to bide his time. Attendants pulled the short ponytail at the back of his skull loose and brushed his hair roughly, though it didn't respond well, being both short /and/ naturally wavy; he hissed and bared his teeth when they tried to lay hand on his braid. He was collared now, too, but it did not touch his Force ability, and he whispered softly in Padme's mind the whole while.
The calmer you are, the more they'll leave you alone. They prefer it when their slaves struggle.

Padme had no intention of struggling, even as attendants stripped her down and draped strange cloth across her body in a perverse version of the constant dressing and undressing required for a Naboo Queen. Modesty was only something Padme developed when those looking had a vested interest. Otherwise, the body was just the body.
Sadists, are they?
Stories of the Hutts didn't exactly inspire thoughts of comfort and happy nights spent with family in front of the fire. She had no illusions this would be anything other than unpleasant.
Her hair had dried in twisted snarls, thanks to the wind whipping through the transport and the severe desert heat, and the multiple Twi'leks charged with brushing it were having a difficult time disentangling the knots.

Among other things, Anakin replied, expression calm and blank. He was comfortable in his own nudity, for the most part- it was touching that bothered him, that made his insides curl and shrink away in disgust and anxiety. He could not look at Padme's body, not like this, and so he looked at her face, into her eyes, and tried to find his solace, while there were hands against his lower body, adjusting him into the clothing he wore for better appeal. Only once did his breath catch, and that moment was gone very swiftly. I don't know what they have in store for us, only that they probably won't kill us right away.

She stared deeply into those brilliant blue eyes of his, trying to offer him the solace he sought. They never do...
One attendant lifted her arms over her head while another adjusted something dealing with her bust. Perhaps it was this, or perhaps it was another part of her anatomy being pinched, but Padme winced, breath stopping for a moment. Leather and gauze for Anakin, metal and gauze for her, apparently.
Whatever strange alloy this metal was, it was black. And hurt like hell when bits of skin caught in the clasps. One of the dressers noticed this and unclasped a bracelet only to click it back together once the flesh was free.
The metal was heavy, too.
I swallowed a tracking device before they caught us. The others should know where we are by now.

He smiled weakly in response to that. Good, because I don't think calling Obi-Wan now is going to do any good. I think he's still unconscious. Still all right?
He himself didn't look all right; he looked rather as though he wanted to throw up.

Yes, I'm fine. Padme seemed to be taking this invasive experience with much greater aplomb than Anakin, even the inevitable pokes and prods into tender areas very few people had business going. Years of being Eirtae's guinea pig/model had taken its toll on her nerves, turning them into massively strong twists of iron as far as being dressed by coarse hands in semi-public places was concerned.
Anakin's reaction was what worried her the most; he'd kicked up a royal fuss when anyone besides Obi-Wan or herself tried to give him a bath, and he did not seem to be taking this well at all. She ached to lean forward and hug him, but it was doubtful the multiple attendants and staring guards would allow that. What about you, Anakin?

His smile was brittle.
I don't like being touched by strangers, he told her calmly. It was forced calm, though it seemed he preferred it to his natural reaction, which would have been violence. There was a certain manner to the way he shifted away from the wandering hands that also said that, in addition to that dislike, the sensation of being touched /there/ was entirely new to him.
It won't kill me.

Yoinomyoujou: (Anakin: *hi, virgin*)
AraiYasha: (Padme: A.A)

Padme was /not/ happy about Anakin being touched, especially in such personal places. It reminded her of Tul'aQ and the Rajah there, the paint and the objectifying stares. The boy wasn't wholly innocent, of course. He'd suffered. He'd killed. He'd witnessed sentient beings do terrible things to each other.
But there was one aspect of his life where he surely /was/ innocent, and this procedure threatened that in a highly discomfiting way.
The low, booming chuckle that had rocked the auction theatre echoed through a distant door, and Padme remembered the Hutts. Jabba. Gardulla.
Which one was waiting?
Was it both?
What did they want?
The Twi'lek women finished twisting Padme's long chestnut brown hair up in the strange, ornate hairpiece, the sheer volume of it falling back down over her shoulders and down her back in freshly brushed coils.
...I think they're nearly ready for us.

Anakin let out his breath imperceptively when he was at last released, and straightened up.
It would seem so.
They were prodded roughly forward, side by side, and the boy held his head up, though he let his hip brush Padme's side briefly, the only part of himself he could manage to reach her with, a soft reassurance that he was there at her side, whatever that might mean. The attendants followed behind, in eerie silence.
And before them, the doors opened.

The scene inside was lavish, open sun flaps providing light all 'round in the dark, metal-scrolled floating place. Beings of multiple species roamed the floor, providing fur, skin, and scales enough to satisfy even the most exacting texture-epicure. Exoskeletons, multiple limbs, tentacles, shapelessness, slime... The Hutts' entourage had it all.
And there, waiting on a raised dais, were two lounging platforms made to the sheer gigantic sluggish Hutt proportions. Gardulla lurked to the left in all her reddish-brown, bloodthirsty glory, and Jabba, the gregarious despot, ruled to the right.
He delicately chose a twitching beetle-creature from a bowl beside his throne and slipped it inside his preternaturally wide, frog-like lips, bulbous eyes closing in pleasure with the crunch of popping beetle bones as the two prisoners were marched before himself and his charming partner in reign.

AraiYasha: (Jabba truly adores Gardulla. She's a pissy one. <3)
Yoinomyoujou: (She is amazing and awful and they are /made/ for each other, I swear.)
AraiYasha: (HUTT LOVE OTP)

The moment they were in sight Anakin began talking in pure Huttese, voice raised and angry.
"This is an act of war against the Republic," he said, lifting his chin. "I am a ward of the Jedi Order, an agent of the Senate, and they will not allow this to-"
"You are noisy, and untrained," Gardulla rumbled, interrupting him as smoothly as one might swat a bug. "But I suppose that will come in time."

"He is not your slave," intoned Padme calmly to Gardulla with all the grace and poise of her Queenly self. Most women would have been cowed by the ordeal of being undressed and redressed in a costume obviously meant so that others could ogle, but Padme bore the slavegirl apparel as if were just another robe. There wasn't any attempt to hide or conceal; this woman had nothing to be ashamed about.
Jabba the Hutt eyed both the outraged boy and the composed woman with a mix of amusement and an interested, appraising gaze, content for the moment to let Gardulla express her fervent opinion.

Gardulla ignored her; her eyes were for Anakin alone, examining him, the shape of his body, the way he held himself. "I remember you as an infant," she purred, putting her small hands against her massive stomach. "But look what you've become now. I've no doubt that the members of my entourage will enjoy you... but that will come later." Her massive eyes rolled to Jabba, then to the armored guards to Padme's left; they moved as if on signal, to take her by both arms and drag her forward, to present her to Jabba up close and personal.

The girl didn't offer resistance even as they grabbed her by the armbands and forcibly thrust her within the massive creature's grabbing range.
One damp, greenish-brown, faintly clawed finger traced the line of Padme's jaw, leaving shining streaks of salted bug-juice upon her skin. Apparently Jabba felt like a slow build today. "And what is your name, my dear?"
Padme's firm expression did not change at the touch, nor did she answer his question.
The Hutt chuckled, booming "Ohohoho" breathing a truly rancid stentch in her face. "How sad. A pretty girl without a name."
He still didn't get an answer.

"I don't doubt she has one," Gardulla said, pleasantly, as Anakin, too, was pushed foward, into her outstretched hands. He managed to refrain from wincing in disgust as her stubby fingers caressed his face, then his bare shoulders. "Though it would certainly be more polite if she'd tell us herself, don't you agree, my love?"

Jabba's fingers tightened upon Padme's jaw like a vice, suddenly making the incredible strength of the Hutts apparent. Padme didn't, impressively, wince, instead looking up into the bloated yellow eyes of Jabba, which were slitted in a purely predatory look of sly consideration. "There's no need, my Lady Gardulla. Not with such a famous face as hers." The low laugh came again, and Jabba shook Padme's face with enough force to snap her neck if he did it quickly enough. "Queen Padme Naberrie Amidala, scourge of the mighty Trade Federation and liberator of Naboo. We're playing host to /real royalty/, my love."
Now her expression changed, and Jabba reacted with amused delight. "What? Think the Holonet doesn't reach so far as Tatooine?" He chuckled, clearly pleased. "You were stupid to leave your precious Republic, Your Majesty," the old title was positively mocking coming from Jabba. "Deep in the richness of bounty hunter territory is the last place you want to go."
Padme could barely speak, his grip was so tight. But she wasn't scared. Only angry underneath that solid composure. "...And why is that?"
Oh, Jabba had a nice little chuckle with THAT one.

Gardulla, too, was chuckling, even as she wound her arms around Anakin, who stood stiffly, eyes on the floor, unmoving.
"The bounty on your head is one of the most impressive we've seen in a long time," she purred, hands stroking Anakin's bare abdomen. The old scar from his experience on Llisnal showed, pale against his skin, reddened and irritated at one end from the semi-recent reopening. "You're both very valuable, even if you don't realize it yet. And we have plans for that, yes we do."

Anakin's molestation upset Padme far more than the so-called "impressive" bounty news; she didn't notice until too late the wildly strong claw that reached for her ribcage and pulled her bodily up onto the dais, nestling upon the wrinkled mass that was Jabba the Hutt like she was some sort of housepet.
Jabba cinched the analogy by running one hand down the bared expanse of her back. Padme stilled under the shocking touch, not quite sure what to make of it though her first instinct was to bite or claw that particular invasive hand.
"It pleases me to possess a slave someone else wants so desperately," said Jabba with a pleased smirk, clipping a long black chain to a ring upon Padme's collar.
Oh /damn/. She thought.
The huge creature chuckled again, exchanging a diabolical look with his lady. "Yes, we have plans for you two."

Anakin did not like the sound of this in the least, nor did he like the hand that was suddenly creeping lower and lower on his body; he jerked away from Gardulla abruptly, the light of rebellion back in his eyes again, wild and angry.
"Release us," he said, in a voice that was miraculously calm. "Release us or the Republic will come down on you like hellfire. The Jedi Order-"
"You want to be silent, now," Gardulla said, just as calmly. "Unless you want to see something untoward happen to this girl right here and now."
Anakin closed his mouth immediately, nearly with an audible snap. She chuckled. "And now, my dear, would you like to inform them as to what's on the schedule for today?"

Jabba grinned, wide mouth growing ever wider. "But you take such pleasure in declaring it." He sketched a bow, running that petting hand down Padme's thigh now. And back up. "I wouldn't dream of denying you your fun."

"Very well, then." A bit of pleased slime dribbled out of Gardulla's mouth. "The two of you have fine, fine stock in you. A champion podracer, and a Jedi no less." She looked at Padme, folding her hands together. "And a Queen of great strength of mind and body." Another dribble of slime. "We intend for the both of you to be bred, as often as possible- together, first, to maximize your usefulness, Padme Amidala. But that's only business. The /fun/ is before and after..." And here she looked at Anakin, and the young Jedi was white as a sheet now.
"I refuse," he said, hoarsely, without looking at Padme. "I won't."

Gardulla had Padme at "bred."
The former Queen of Naboo was simply speechless with horror at what the female Hutt was suggesting. But she eventually found her voice. "...We won't. It's impossible."
Jabba just laughed and stroked his shiny new possession once more, pausing inordinately long upon her lower body, where he suddenly decided to drum his fingers, enjoying the uncomfortable tenseness of the human muscle beneath his touch. "'Impossible?' You feel healthy enough to us."

AraiYasha: (Oooh, 'feel' instead of 'look.' Ew ew ew ew ew.)

"And if you don't feel so inclined," Gardulla said sweetly, "There are ways of convincing you."
Anakin's eyes had moved to Padme, and in doing so had found the direction of Jabba's attentions. "...Let her go," he said suddenly, hands clenching into fists.

Oh, THIS was amusing. "Giving me orders, little Jedi?"
A clawed forefinger found a particularly tender spot at her abdomen and twisted gently in one place, leaving a tidy indentation upon her skin.
Padme was not amused, but the way Jabba clutched her prevented her from pushing his nail away.

"I'll kill you if you don't." There was a note to Anakin's voice that said he was nearly at his limit, that he was being pushed in a bad direction. "I'll give you until three. One..."
Gardulla rumbled and sat back, perfectly content to let Jabba deal with this on his own.

Ah, yes, the nearly impossible needs of Jedi. Jabba waved for his guards to approach, and Padme craned her neck to see what they were carrying...
Another restraining collar.
The ruling Hutt yanked on her chain, coiling it about his wrist until she couldn't turn and look anymore, pressed close as she was against the oily folds of Jabba.
And it made her furious.
If only the black jewelry-restraints had been fitted with spikes.
Anakin, no. No, don't do it- they're bringing a collar!

"Two," Anakin said, ignoring her. Something had changed about his voice; it was calmer now, more even, strangely detached. He didn't move, only stared at Jabba.

The reptilian slits of Jabba's eyes examined the boy, noting the change. The guards moved faster, and Padme struggled to turn around, silently begging Anakin not to do this, not so soon, not before Obi-Wan woke up again and could talk to him and find a way out of this

"Three-" But he didn't get the chance to move before the guards shoved him roughly to the ground, one of them planting a knee heavily in the small of his back and seizing a fistful of his hair.
Gardulla was laughing again, nearly rocking back and forth with the effort. "There, you see? It does you no good. Put the collar on him."
"/No/!" Anakin exclaimed, bravado leaving him in a sudden rush. The Force was all he had to keep him steady. He couldn't lose that connection now.

"Please!" Padme cried, twisting herself away towards the helpless boy on the floor. "Please don't collar him!"
Aha, the begging began.
All sorts of things would happen once the begging began.
Jabba chuckled and patted his new find on the rump, impressed that she didn't squirm at the touch. "Why shouldn't we, little girl?"
"...he doesn't need it," she murmured softly, staring down at the boy with barely disguised protectiveness. Show them you don't need to be collared, Anakin. Please.

The youth looked up at her from his place on the floor; he'd struggled up to a kneeling position beneath the guard who held him. He met her eyes for a long moment, and then, abruptly, he bowed his head suddenly, perfectly submissive, though for a moment his shoulders trembled.
"Ah," Gardulla said, seeming pleased. "You possess him already. How interesting it will be to see that change when he posesses /you/."

Padme shot the female Hutt a look of such venom it was a wonder the giant slug-creature didn't die on the spot.
For his part, Jabba found Gardulla's observation hysterically funny.

AraiYasha: (Jabba: *Ah, beauteous Gardulla <3* *your sharp tongue does wonders for my soul*)
Yoinomyoujou: (Gardulla: *I'm flattered to be able to touch you so<3*)

And she, likewise, was pleased, both by Padme's fury and Jabba's amusement. "Fetch the vials," she instructed the nearest attendent, who bowed deeply and scampered off, returning after a heartbeat or two with a tray.
"I won't," Anakin murmured, eyes fixed on the floor. "I refuse. I /refuse/."
"My lovely pet," responded the female Hutt, lightly, "You will not refuse much longer. Not if your female is willing. I know how young males of your species work. We have done this before. If she is wanting, she will be impossible to resist."

"...You're going to drug us." Padme's statement was flat, blank, almost completely devoid of the revulsion she felt for these despicable beings, sighting the tray laden with tiny little vials of whatever it was they used to induce a breeding stupor in the Hutt slaves.
"And a very pleasant drug it is," continued Jabba whimsically, with a sly sideways look towards his mate as he brushed the gauzy fabric looped around Padme's thighs until it loosened. "You'll enjoy every second."
The human girl snarled briefly in silence, one lip curling. "I'd rather be collected as a bounty head."

The attendant knelt before Jabba, and held the tray up over her head, bowing nearly to the floor in the process, fairly quivering with fear.
"Hush, girl," Gardulla instructed, waving a hand idly. "Enjoy yourself."

Strangely enough, Padme obeyed Gardulla's first instruction, not out of any desire to please the Hutts, of course, but a decision to accept whatever degrading procedures they had in mind for her with a dignity that put these planetary despots to shame.
Enjoying herself was out of the question.
Being drugged into sex was quite the farthest thing from enjoyment Padme could think of.
Jabba flipped her over as easily as a child would flip a doll, and she didn't resist, instead taking the opportunity to examine the many interesting vagaries of the palace ceiling.
Then came the vial to her face.
This was too awful.
Padme refused to accept its liquid contents past her lips, and Jabba seemed to only become more and more amused with her stubborn refusal to take the drug.

It took only a few moments of her refusing, so quietly, to accept that abuse to send her companion into the full blown rage he'd been trying to supress. Anakin's fists clenched against the floor, tightly, his body shaking as though something else was fighting to get out, and in a sudden and startlingly sharp sound, the vial shattered, spraying liquid and glass everywhere. There was an uncomfortable, bone jarring vibration in the room, like a high frequency sound that could be felt but not heard.

The whole Hutt entourage froze at the strange disturbance, silent for a moment or two before beginning to talk again at a MUCH higher volume than they had been before.
Padme, as the closest party to the vial, recoiled when it burst. Even with the reflexive move, it showered her face and chest with its contents, clear beads of liquid settling upon plump rosy lips and quickly absorbing into her skin. All of it seemingly evaporated into the bared parts of her flesh, and Jabba chuckled, absently brushing small shards of glass from Padme's body.
The girl lay submissive under his hand, breathing soft and still.
Granted, it could have been the shock of the mini explosion that caused her sudden quietude, but wizened members of the Hutt entourage knew better.
It acted quickly and amazingly, this particular drug.
Jabba saw it as his favorite interplanetary import.

Anakin Skywalker was no fool, and he could only stare as the guards attending him snapped the Force dampening collar around his neck. "No," he said, helplessly, but this wasn't about him. He could not touch her mind now, could not reach her physically.
Gardulla gave another of those awful rumbles, pleased and arch-tailed with the sight, and said, "Now. Show him how willing she is."

And Jabba stroked a thin line down Padme's throat and to the middle of her torso, pad of his finger just barely touching her skin.
Her body arched to follow.

Yoinomyoujou: (SDsdfd aahaahaha Anakin is like "SDasffh oh god no asdfafg penis aaa")
AraiYasha: (God, it's so scary and so sexy all at the same time.)
Yoinomyoujou: (FOR SERIOUS.)
AraiYasha: (Brrrrr!)

He held his breath, feeling a part of himself stir at the sight of her, and hating it, hating himself for it, for the fact that he'd been unable to defend her, that he still could not. But he could not take his eyes from the sight. She was beautiful, had been so in his memory ever since they'd first met, had only grown more so with the passage of years, and he wanted her. He did want her. He had stopped denying that years ago.
But not here. Not like this.

Oh, the Hutt monarch loved this, loved the longing conflict in the boy's face, the overpowering want.
Today's show would be most pleasing.
Jabba smiled triumphantly at his terrible mate, great eyes lidded with amusement and the stirs of his own enjoyment, thoroughly confident in her estimation upon the willpower of human males when faced with a willing female.
He prodded Padme to a sitting position and pushed her towards the boy, barely supressing a chuckle when she half-dropped to the floor. Flushed, glowing skin, heavy dark lips, eyes soft with the blush of ardor... what a change from the determined Queen of before.
/Aha/, a frown. Fighting it, was she?
Fighting a losing battle.

Gardulla observed through contentedly slitted eyes- they had done this before, and always it was a treat. For them both.
"Padme," Anakin said softly, and he reached forward to pull her into his arms in an abrupt movement, trying- fighting- not to make it a motion of desire, but rather one of protection, of safety. He would not be an instrument of her undoing. He would not.
"Hold on," he whispered, nose against her ear, voice quietly urgent. "Is this all right?" "This" meant his hands and his closeness; he was undeniably, horribly aroused, but that meant nothing at all at the moment. For Anakin was Jedi, and in this vital moment, he had put that part of himself away. Freedom from the physical, left with only the mental.
And his mind told him to hold, and guard, and protect.

"Yes." Her voice was soft, not in the prayers of the passionate, but in the quiet gratitude of an individual fighting for sanity. Her fingers closed around his shoulderblades, gently feeling out those scrapes from the rockface. "It's all right... I think I need this." Padme's voice broke, but only just barely. "...I need... touch, and this is all right."
Pressing one's body to another did not always mean deep intimacy of a physical kind; hugs could also serve that position, too.

"I won't hurt you," he said softly in her ear; it spoke volumes about Anakin Skywalker that he would use the word "hurt" to describe what it would mean to take advantage of her in her current heightened state. Enjoying sexual activity physically, as any human male knew, did not always go hand in hand with enjoying it mentally and emotionally.
The body could betray.
"I promise you." And this, despite the sudden heady rush that filled him, turned his blood hot and made the sensation of her skin against his nearly unbearable. Contact through skin, he thought, with a private note of fear- he had an idea as to what would be done to him if he didn't use this high on Padme.
Anakin clenched his teeth together.
"There's a pressure point," he murmured, voice low enough not to be heard by the watching Hutts. "On the neck- I can knock you out if you want."

Padme was close enough to feel his heartbeat and heat increase, smart enough through the dizzying drug to realize how unutterably stupid it had been to press skin to skin.
Now Anakin had to endure this.
"...what about you?"

"I won't die," he replied, restraining himself from letting his hand trail down the smooth expanse of her shoulders and back, from exploring the softness of her skin. Mind over body. Mind over body. "We're trained not to... we're trained to resist these kinds of things, if we have to. And they won't kill me. I'll be there when you wake up."
He couldn't add the word "promise" to that, because he couldn't lie. Especially not to her.

She buried her face in his neck, hair soft and twining around them both, inhaling the sweet scent of his skin mixed with a tinge of sweat... and the heady fragrance of whatever that strange, terrible drug was that made Anakin's charms so apparent.
The safety of his hands felt /wonderful/, would probably feel the same once the drug had worn off and their minds were free of the screaming needs of the body.
But that wasn't allowed.
"Please." The word breathed against his ear, wretched that she didn't have the knowledge to do the same for him.
Please knock me out.
Sex was a private thing, not an act between two drugged, nonconsenting partners paraded before a bevy of callous perverts. Physical pleasure ought to be emotional and mental pleasure, too- a product of joy between the practicioners.
Padme prayed help would come soon.

Anakin's lips brushed her forehead momentarily- it was a kiss, but a brief and fleeting thing, gentle. He was always gentle with her.
"Inhale," he murmured, and cupped the back of her neck with his hand.

Padme did so, completely trusting.

He nearly spoke the words that rose to his lips in that moment, but instead, he smiled at her, as reassuring as he could be, and touched that pressure point on the back of her neck with practiced care.

AraiYasha: (What was he about to say?)
Yoinomyoujou: (He nearly told her he loved her.)
AraiYasha: (A.A ...he thinks he's not going to see her again.)
Yoinomyoujou: (Mm. He's also quite certain that he's going to get raped to some degree.)

Padme exhaled into black, falling limp against his body like a woman spent- gauze fell and shifted upon glowing skin, and her ornamented arms lost their grip upon Anakin's back, falling with soft clacks to the floor beside his hips.
Even without the consciousness of half the pair, the tableau was highly erotic.
Jabba paused to appreciate this briefly before becoming violently incensed.

Anakin lifted his eyes to the Hutts, and they were dark with anger and defiance. He hugged Padme close, cradling her.
"I said that I refused," he said, someone managing to make his voice work around the throbbing of now painful arousal. It was all he could do to keep still, not to squirm, not to beg for some kind of help or release.
Well, he had his pride.
"I will not force her."
Gardulla bellowed in equal anger, pointing one stubby finger at him accusingly. "Then it's a lesson you want, boy?!" she exclaimed in rage. "Is that it?"

Jabba's yellow eyes slid into slits once more. "I think it /is/ a lesson he wants." The low throatiness of his chuckle turned dark. "You've made her unable to resist, boy."
That begged the question- resist what?

Anakin said evenly, "I will kill her if I have to, to keep her from you." It was impossible to tell if he was bluffing, but his hand was broad and steady against her delicate throat- there was no doubt that he was strong, despite the tension in his body.

And now Jabba the Hutt laughed. Hugely. His mouth flew open and green globs of slime flew wildly beyond the dais.
Once the laugh faded, Jabba still seemed in good humor.
"I like this boy," he confided to Gardulla, stuffing another cockroach delicacy into his gummy jaws. "Fearless and desperate."

"E chu ta," Anakin replied- and this time his voice wavered, and he could not quite contain a desperate squirm, a small motion of the hips. His control over his body was rapidly waning.
Gardulla settled a little, though she still seemed displeased- she wanted her show, and she wanted it now.

Jabba's low throaty voice practically hummed with dark glee, noting Anakin's tiny squirm, nearly hidden by the collapsed body of Padme Amidala. "Desperate for something else, boy?"
The whole Hutt entourage viewed this impromptu palace-theatre with varied interest; it wasn't every day a local folk hero met the menacing glory of the Hutts. The green Twi'lek from the slave market stood still as a column to the side, watching. She still bore the fine bronze manacles of that day.

Anakin shuddered at the words, fingers clenching against Padme's skin for a moment. His response tried hard to be a denial, but to little avail. "Nn... Y...yes." Saying it brought a rush of guilt, and fear, coupled with the sudden rising desperate hope that maybe, maybe there would be relief. He hated that, too. "Don't... don't touch me."
The lovely pale Twi'lek girl had been pressed against Jabba's hulking side all this time, eyes half closed, moaning soft and senseless every once in a while. Her mental resistance to the drug was nowhere near as strong as that of the two new captives- any member of the entourage that passed nearby would reach out to touch her back or her nearly bared buttocks, each time evoking a sharp gasp and a little involuntary arch.

Yoinomyoujou: (Poor Aena was just supposed to be some kindly noble's pampered pet, really.)
AraiYasha: (Yeah. She was picked out special by the girl-child, who absolutely adored her.)
AraiYasha: (They had practice tea parties.)

"You could always continue with the Queen," Jabba suggested reasonably, just to see how desperate the boy was. Now that Padme lay in the arms of another, the hulking Hutt turned his attentions to the tiny Twi'lek, pinching tender places just to listen to the child's cries.
The other, gloriously tall Twi'lek remained solid at her post, watching Anakin's agony with a near-total absence of sympathy.

"I have..." the words were getting difficult to form. "...I have given you my answer on that..." There was something clenching in the pit of his stomach, making him dizzy, off balance, but he would not lay hand on Padme. Not while she was helpless.
Not ever, unless she approached him first. He would die of this, first.
The girl responded readily, gasping, body lifting and pressing into the great Hutt's hands, wanting beyond her own control. The clink of the chain around her neck as she moved was almost obscene. Anakin's eyes followed this movement as well. It was not helping his control. He bit back a groan of his own.

"Or perhaps something younger," smiled the Hutt, patting the wanton Twi'lek girl beside him, dark brown meaty fingers ugly against the pale blue of her skin.

He looked at the girl, who was whimpering helplessly, clearly as desperate as he was, only she was even less possessed of her senses- her mind was only on sensation, the burning need for release, and she would clearly accept this from anyone.
Anakin said nothing. The idea was repulsive to him.
Gardulla murmured, quietly sinister, "Boy, do you need to be forced, yourself?"

Jabba chuckled, gratified that the beauteous Gardulla had now rejoined the game. The feminine Hutt was always so delicious in her cruelty. He stroked the immature chest of the Twi'lek girl absently, wondering how many years it would take before she became as voluptuous as her older sisters.

No.
This had never been something that had crossed his mind that could happen to him, or to any Jedi, and it sent cold thrills of fear through him. No, he'd rather die.
Anakin eased Padme to the ground, trying to control his breathing and failing. He took his eyes away from her, forcibly.
"No," he said softly, defeated. "I don't."
But he did not ask for the squirming Twi'lek girl- instead his hands went down to take care of the issue himself, cheeks flamingly red with humiliation. The drug intensified what was ordinarily a fairly normal activity, enough that spots swam before his eyes and he could not quite contain his sounds. Though, considering, it was probably better that he didn't.
Gardulla began to laugh in full. "Oh, very nice," she said, "Very nice, what a wonderful preview."

Jabba joined his lovely mistress in mirth, every squirming action, every pant, every barely-contained cry of the lone boy a source of great amusement. "Inventive! Very adaptable!"

The sheer waves of hatred that eminated from the boy were red against the Force, against the universe; had it not been for the collar that kept him contained, there would have been more than one death in this room. Staying upright was difficult; Anakin lay on his back to finish, closing his eyes and doing his best to pretend he was somewhere else, with someone else, that rescue was coming and that this would not be neccesary again.
The finale stole his breath away, made his vision go black and his whole body stiff, but he bit back the cry this time, defiantly not giving them what they wanted. And when it was over he lay still, trying to recover, ignoring the fact that he was crying- it had happened over less. It made him no less strong. He told himself that.
The applause that rose up in the room did little to help his upset.

Jabba the Hutt beat his palms together in an appreciative clap, chortling and swinging the Twi'lek's excess chain to and fro in his pleased enthusiasm.
Altogether, the air in the Hutt's floating palace echoed with festivity as the assembled crowd showed their appreciation for the show with hoots, appreciative snorts, and giggles.
One who did not seem to share in the overpowering festive mood was the statuesque green Twi'lek, who regarded the spent boy with a vaguely impressed gaze that seemed to say, "That was noble of you. Well done."
Jabba quietened the interplanetary crowd of scum with a commanding wave of his hand, rocking back and forth on the dais with glee. "Very good, very good, boy." He was still chuckling. "But don't assume you won't be bred. We're very eager to see what kind of offspring you produce."

AraiYasha: ((Baby!Luke and Baby!Leia send a great big middle finger to Jabba the Hutt.))
Yoinomyoujou: ((*L* Seriously. HE HAS GREAT OFFSPRING, YO))

Anakin closed his eyes and turned his face away. There was silence save the frantic cries of the Twi'lek girl, who was not taking being momentarily ignored well at all.
"My Master will come for me," Anakin said, quietly, tired. "And he'll kill you both."

Jabba ignored both Anakin's comment and the aroused Twi'lek girl, beckoning benignly to an attendant regarding the two new slaves. "Take them to a breeding cell."
He leaned forward, addressing the exposed and stained Jedi Padawan with those invasive yellow frog's eyes, mirthful now. "We will continue this later."
Padme Amidala lay soft and unresisting upon the metal floor of the palace beside Anakin, even breath fogging the reflective surface with each quiet exhalation.