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Slave Boy	By : Concrete-Diamond Category: Star Wars (All) > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 18625 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars, George Lucas does. I'm not making any money by writing this.

Chapter List
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A.N. – Warning to all who enter here- lots of sex. It’s erotica. And while I try not to play free with the timeline, I probably will. Let’s just say this is a very AU branch-off from Attack of the Clones. Oh, and seeing as all Hutts are hermaphrodites, I decided this probably wasn’t too far fetched. :)

The desert was all but black when they took him.
The padawan had cursed himself to the moons of Nar Shadda – he should have known a slaver caravan at the first glimpse, but his mind had been clouded. The Tuskens... his mother...
They bound him at the wrists, stuffed a gag of bantha skin in his mouth, and while he was being stripped of any and all valuables, the lightsaber was discovered beneath his cloak. For the first moment in his life, Anakin Skywalker knew true panic. If they took the weapon, he would be defenseless, and even if they did not... would they allow a jedi to live?
“Meditate...” Obi-Wan would say. “Release your fear...”
Yet, if he had expected rage or fear on the part of his captors, Anakin was to be much mistaken. For the expression upon many of their twisted, scaly, sand-blasted faces was nothing short of gleeful. As he lay bound upon the moonlit sand, he caught the harsh rasp of their huttese dialect –
“Hees newpa charkeeeee...”
“Bunko wamma pour de wanga! Wamma mee!”
And before the padawan could make a noise of protest or even pain, a Force restraint had been snapped about his neck, and they lifted him...
The journey was a short one, though to the captive it seemed an eternity. Padmé would think him dead – Obi-Wan might search, but would abandon the attempt as futile... He would take another apprentice, adding the name Anakin Skywalker to the wall of the Lost in the temple... Tears welled from crystal blue eyes, though perhaps it was only the stinging sands.
When the structure rose before them, he was lowered from atop the bantha, and brought beneath the eye of the security droid for inspection. Something like laughter crackled from the machine’s voice piece, and immediately the door began to rise with a noise like Naboo thunder... The binding staff dug into his arms and shoulders as he was tugged forward by the chain clasped to the collar about his throat – silently, Anakin swore to himself to never again break a living creature to a leash. The humiliation was too great...
The corridors of the huge building were below the ground, beneath all reach of the sun, and so bathed in shadow. A nervous sweat tricked down the back of his neck as a tall figure emerged from one of these pools of darkness, and addressed his captors. It was a male twilek – a cruel-featured being, his albino skin dotted with a revolting sheen of moisture. Anakin could not hold back a shudder at the sensation of the creature’s hard fingertips as they dug into his chin and lifted his face to be examined by blood-red eyes... A look came over the twilek’s countenance that the padawan could not name, and a second shudder convulsed through his body as long fingernails ghosted over his cheek. He wished to lash out, to slay the foul thing where he stood, but the inhibitors and his bindings made it impossible – he had never felt such a thorough helplessness, and it infuriated him as much as it terrified him.
The twilek led them through a narrow side corridor, through which light began to spill, and suddenly the stairway opened into what seemed to be a large audience chamber... Beings of every species and origin were crammed into alcoves and behind pillars, but all – grotesque, in some way. A growl rose up near his feet, and the padawan scuffled back with a startled cry as a chained amphinine snapped at his ankles, catching one of the Gammorean pig guards instead. The swine squealed in pain, to the racous laughter of many in the chamber.
Strong hands shoved him down the final few steps, until his boots met the sandy floor. Moonlight leaked from a viewport in the ceiling, illuminating the dais at the room’s center, and the misshapen creature upon it.
Anakin had not lain eyes upon the notorious Jabba the Hutt since he was a nine-year old child, and then only from a great distance. Ten years later, time had not been kind to the crime-lord. Great rolls of fat sagged morbidly all about his neck and softened belly, and his once golden eyes had begun to redden with age. Yet once they landed upon the young jedi, the orbs seemed to glow with a ravenous light that Anakin found discomfiting...
“Master...” The twilek hissed at the Hutt’s side, but he was ignored.
“Koose pedunkta nei.”
The staff was grasped firmly and the padawan was dragged before the gangster, struggling hopelessly. A bloated, greasy tongue oozed from Jabba’s maw of a mouth and lapped at the boy’s smooth cheek. Anakin’s moan of revulsion was met by the shrieking, cackling laughter of a kowakian monkey-lizard perched on the edge of the dais. Anakin felt himself aching to mangle the little beast with his bare hands.
“Un jedia?” the Hutt crowed, his booming laughter filling the room.
“Haku un lickmoomoo.”
All the rest began to cackle and crow as well, yet Anakin felt only bottomless fear and confusion, emotions that all too often drove him to thoughtlessness. Why would any creature –particularly a crime-lord of the Hutt’s magnitude – think it a “treat” to bring a captive jedi into their midst? For ransom perhaps?...
“Yacha neechu.” Jabba boomed, and a pair of Gammoreans seized the staff and drove the boy through a back corridor, as the Hutt turned to the slavers. “Bargon u noa-a-uyat...”
As he descended into the bowels of the palace, Anakin noted the despised sand beneath his boots thickening into slime, mixed as it was with the blood, saliva, and discarded feces of dozens of creatures. He fought the urge to retch, as they rounded a corner, and he was dragged into a large chamber. Though the walls were polished, the air stank of sweat and fear, and the things and creatures it contained seemed to have been born from a twisted nightmare. The air was permeated with smoke, steam, and the screams of droids and organics alike. There, four protocol droids suffered as their limbs were ripped from them, coolant seeping from the wounds – and there, a rodian screamed in anguish as it’s skin buds were plucked away, one by one – and... Anakin felt a chill of terror as his eyes settled upon a device that defied description – at least, to a jedi padawan’s naive mind.
A young, green-skinned twilek female lay strapped to a metal table, naked and writhing, as a cylindrical object – ten inches long and five inches wide, the boy calculated rapidly- was driven repeatedly by levers into an opening between her legs.
Anakin had not lain eyes upon a nude female humanoid since he was five years old, and the sight had long since nearly vanished from his mind. Coupled also with his sheltering within the temple for several years, and being all but chained to the side and sight of his master – there had been no opportunity to develop natural curiosity, and much less to even consider exploring it. The sight of this torture then, had more than a full impact upon his senses – shock, terror, and confusion, mingled with a shattering array of other emotions.
“Ah, a new acquisition – splendid.”
The speaker was a male quarren, flamboyantly tattoeod. Bronze rings hung from his tentacles. “The master was growing weary of the same pickings...” His thick fingers flipped on the datapad upon his desk, and before Anakin could so much as breathe the same fingers had peeled his lips back harshly, so as to examine his teeth. The guards held him fast – it was useless to struggle.
“A human male, age... nineteen basic years, it would seem. The prime for that pitifully short-lived species – excellent.” With a snap of his claws, the quarren led them to a nearby ante chamber, and Anakin’s untrained eyes were dazzled by the shimmer of metal...
“Something simplistic... such fine skin...” And then the boy found his wrists forced above his head and manacled to the ceiling, as his tunics were torn from his chest, followed by every other garment that shielded his developing body... He writhed helplessly, every inch of skin exposed to the coarse heat, as bronze slave braces were clasped about his wrists, neck, and ankles, and his padawan braid adorned with arkanian diamonds.
“Ahhh, a force-sensitive...?” the quarran murmured, stroking the inhibitor with a yellowed claw. “How fortunate for the Master... “
Again that storm of confusion swallowed the boy’s panicked mind – why?! How did that quality above all others make him so special? – Yet before another thought could be coherently formed, he felt the prick of a hypo-needle against his neck, and a cloud settled over his senses. He ceased his struggling instantly, though his mind screamed otherwise – he must run, he must fight, he must escape this –his mother lay dying or dead somewhere in the desert...
“Take him back to His Excellecy’s primary audience chamber – he’ll fit in nicely, now.”

Huttese Translations –
“Hees newpa charkeeeee...” – He’s new meat...
“Bunko wamma pour de wanga! Wamma mee!” – The palace’ll pay well for this one
“Koose pedunkta nei.” – Bring him to me.
“Un jedia? Haku un lickmoomoo.” – A jedi? What a treat.
“Yacha neechu.” – Take him.
“Bargon u noa-a-uyat...” – You will be rewarded.
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Slave Boy