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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
A.N. – Hope this makes up for the last couple of pitifully short chapters!

Before we go into the warnings, a quick note – some... things... take place in this chapter which are probably not actually possible for a human male. I am aware of this. However, it’s a fantasy, which means anything goes!

Warnings: Torture, bondage, toys, anal play, corruption, rape-ish? *Let’s just say it gets intense.

“Ahhh, our little sorcerer-boy – I suspected we might be seeing you again...”

The quarren slave-master outstretched a clawed finger and traced it down the boy’s cheek – Anakin wriggled and jerked his head free of the light touch.

The creature gave a gurgling sigh.

“I can see why the Master was displeased – and for striking him directly, no less? Really my darling, you ought to be grateful for his leniency...”

The boy’s face darkened, and before the quarren could so much as gasp, a glob of human saliva had splashed inches above his sapphire blue left eye.

He snarled, mopping away the fluid in evident disgust.

“That little indiscretion has earned you another three hours to a five hour punishment, my dear. Bring him.” He growled harshly to the guards, who followed him as he wound a path through the maze of grisly devices – some in use, some broken, but all twisted and hideous...

Anakin fought to remain cold throughout the short journey to the lower levels, but as the evidence was spread mercilessly before his eyes, he had begun to find it harder and harder to keep a grasp upon his resolve, now that he had seen them again - creatures and droids subjected to all forms of perverse suffering - and knowing all too well that quite soon, he would be joining them....

“This should make an admirable impression...”

The nineteen-year old’s blue gaze followed the voice of his alien captor, and as they fell upon the subject of his speech, Anakin felt the first tremors of ruthless panic creeping up from his belly.

Accept it... it’s only another trial... you’ll endure it, l-like all the o-others...

Even the voice within his mind had begun to tremble.

A pair of hybrid droid models had replaced the guards holding him, who lumbered back up the stairs to the audience chamber, grunting and squealing to one another, and abandoning their charge to his fate...

“Face-up – we don’t want him squirming away, now do we?”

The droids made no answer. One retracted it’s left arm, revealing a decently sized blaster barrel, and before the boy could fully grasp their intentions a round of green energy had been fired into his upper thigh, releasing a burst of crippling pain. He shouted and fell backwards against the durasteel table, giving them ample time to position him on his back, and shackle him to the surface. Agony rushed through his muscles, his blood flamed, their metal hands chilled his skin... hard fingers worked his jaws open and strapped a durcrete bar over his tongue, and the boy’s initial horror was magnified a thousand-fold when something harsh and black was clamped over his eyes, blocking all vision –

Not like this, not like this – you can’t let them – they can’t blind you to what’s happening, it’s inhuman-!

“Secure, master.” One of the units beeped coldly.

Anakin could all but feel the creature’s eyes crawling over his exposed body as he writhed on the cold surface, his torso stretched taut by his arms, pulled over his head, his knees pressed flat at right angles to his hips... he felt like a bantha hide, stretched to the breaking point, waiting to be weathered clean by the desert sands...

“Assume level nine procedure six – eight hour duration, no respite.”

Meditate... R-Release the fear...

“Yes, master.”

...There is no emotion, there is peace, there is no ignorance, there is knowledge, there is no passion, there is serenity...

“Execute.”

There is no chaos –

His frantic meditation was sliced to pieces as a tiny wire of lifeless metal was driven into his channel, the entrance still throbbing from the trauma of mere minutes before – and when the globule at the very end brushed the knot of raw nerves imbedded against the internal walls, the boy stiffened with a gasp and a whimper....

“Engage.”

Engage wha – Oh.... OHHH!!!!!

The first vibration had his hips bucking off the table, the screams of mingled pain and raw animal joy muffled by the bar in his mouth...

“Very good...” the quarren murmured somewhere nearby, and at the jolting reminder that he was being watched, Anakin felt the nubs on his chest harden until they were numb.

“I’ll return at the end of the session – keep things steady.”

“Yes, master.”

He shrieked through the gag, straining at the cuffs with all his physical strength, searching in the relentless black for the slightest glimmer of light – something to see by – And the robots simply stood by and watched. He could hear their circuits humming. Desperation began to take hold, and with a whimpering cry he shoved his hips upward, searching frantically for the slightest amount of much needed friction...

Nothing was forthcoming.

Footsteps echoed nearby, and he wailed and twisted in the bonds. Who or whatever it was, they paid him no mind.

Force, couldn’t they see he was in agony?! Did no one care?!

Tears spilled down his face, and still that sithcursed little device continued, unthinking, unknowing, blissfully unaware of the torment it was subjecting him to...

Finally, finally, his body could take no more, and with a drawn out sob he plunged over the edge, shuddering, spasming, white lights exploding in front of his eyes...

He sagged back to the table, limp and weak – and yet the small globe refused to stop. And as was quickly made apparent, no amount of begging or weeping made any difference.

His hips thrusted and bucked up, saliva dripping around the bar, down his chin and over his neck as he wailed and finally gathered all the energy in his lungs into a blood-pounding scream, as ropes and ropes of hot fluid splashed against his taut stomach...

“Please-! Plea- Oh Force!!!” he shrieked as the sensations began anew. Every interior nerve was raw and chafing, and each burst of pain left him throbbing and desperately hard...

This time he went blind, he was certain of it. He saw nothing but white light through the blackness, the ringing inside his head was deafening – or perhaps it was only the echo of his own cries...

No, not again, not again, he couldn’t do it, not again-! The machine didn’t care. His body might be depleted, but that small contrivance inside had its own agenda...

And as the tension within him snapped for the uncountable time, again and again and again, in a fit of hysteria and madness, he understood.

This was life. This was all it amounted to. He’d been wrong, all those years – he wasn’t a person. He was a... host, for this unending agony and delight.

And with this last shove of dehumanization, Anakin let go.

Eight hours later, the quarren came to collect him, a few quick gestures of his clawed hands switching off the irritant.

The slave-master’s pierced tentacles perked unpleasantly, as he drank in the boy’s state – limp in the bonds, sheened in sweat, and moaning unconsciously.

Excellent.

“He’ll be of little use for the rest of the night – carry him to the Pit for now, and tell his Excellency to inform the Master.”

Anakin numbly felt his jaw tremble as the bar was unstrapped, eyes blinking as they were flooded with dim light at last.

His muscles were useless, and the droids were obliged to lift him off the table like an injured child.

“Fortunate,” the quarren purred, “that we made such an impression – else I would be obliged to order a second wave.”

The boy’s only response was a weak stir, before the droids carried him down the stairwell and into the dancer’s pit...

Gradually, Anakin felt his faculties beginning to drift back – though movement might remain an impossibility for some time. As it was, his head spun, his blood pumped through his veins sluggishly, and he almost seemed to be sinking into the thick layer of cushions under his back...

Suddenly something wet trickled down his cheek towards his slack lips – his tongue eased out, catching the dull taste of water supplements...

“Drink....”

His eyelids cracked open, to find the g’ruthian’s jeweled eyes gazing tenderly down at him, her snowy and azure plumes tumbling about her pearl-skinned shoulders. Very cautiously, like a skittish animal, he let his mouth fall open and the liquid drizzled inside.

“Good...” She murmured in heavily accented Basic, stroking his cropped hair. “They took much... you must drink it back – drink or you die...”

He obeyed unquestioningly – it was easier – and when the flask was finally empty, he fell back into her arms. There was silence for a brief moment, as he floated somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, and she leaned down to brush his swollen, bitten lips with her own blush pink.

“I am Kyoona...” she whispered, caressing the tear tracks upon his face. “You I do not know...”

He was drifting, lost somewhere on this sea of disillusionment and efficient ravagement, and his tongue lay thick and swollen upon his teeth...

“Hhhhh....Aaannyyyhhhh...”

A sigh left her throat as she leant down and gathered him close.

“Ani... Ani...” she crooned gently, and he lay still, breathing in the sweet scent of her white neck and plumes...
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Slave Boy