Part Time Job | By : dschinny Category: Star Wars (All) > General Views: 7157 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
“Welcome back, advisor Fett. Was your venture a success?” The head of the white Kaminoan swayed from side to side attentively.
“Successful enough. With the individual in question recovered and revenge executed, his clan returned to full co-operation.”
“Then you will be pleased to hear that we will stay on schedule with the supplies for the ARCs training program.”
“Yes. I amplified the headcount of my staff. Initially, the new asset will be restricted on my quarters.”
The Kaminoan nodded and Jango Fett turned to his quarters. He sealed the door behind him and scanned the rooms carefully. Thanks to the sterile layout of Kaminoan architecture his room could hold a human well in check once he added some mountings and modified the locks.
On board of the Slave I, Boba ambled back in the cargo bay, looking as bored as his father had claimed to be. He urged her to eat the ration bar, and then continued his questioning. “Why don’t you want to become family?”
“Family?” Tomoe nearly choked on her breakfast, “Boba, you are the first who asks me this question. So far, I experienced nothing but disrespect and violence...”
“But my father protected and saved you from that. He even gave you his sigil.”
“He abducted me in first place and afterwards, on this strange planet, all I would have needed was a minute of his protection to explain.” She clipped her outburst and shook her head in disbelief, “Instead he treats me like some property.”
“The only thing dad talks to is this ship, the Slave I.” Boba pouted, “As you can see, it’s in perfect condition.”
“I was not raised to become Slave II, but to honor my ancestors and my heritage. You see, your needs and life plans are so different from mine that I have difficulties to understand the mere outlines. I have seen only one side of your father and I don’t know anything about your mother...”
“I have no mother.” Boba retorted with a side-glance.
“I’m sorry.” Tomoe stopped her rant and scolded herself for hurting the boy. Hadn’t it been obvious enough that this ‘family’ was far from normal?
“No. I mean,” he tilted his head curiously, “...how is it to have a mother?”
“My mother... she was always there when we needed her. She was the centre of the house, busy and calm at the same time. She was educated and shared her knowledge, but gave me leeway for my own experience as well. Nothing could go wrong. I know few things that she didn’t start to teach me, so I could find my place in life... and she was beautiful... uhmm... you get the idea.”
Boba considered. This didn’t sound so different, but his dad had to leave him for days upon occasion. Then he was bored and lacked purpose. “You miss her,” he concluded.
“Yes. She left an imprint that is hard to fill.”
“How about your father?”
Tomoe’s face went blank. “He was a salary man who travelled a lot.”
“My dad says, I’ll be his copy in a few years. Without scars, of course. And once I’m grown, I can always accompany him.”
“This must be very comforting for you."
Suddenly, the boy was shadowed by his grown up armored version. “It is.” Jango shooed Boba up the ladder to pack his bag and followed him. His massive armored frame made the cockpit even smaller. “You can’t trust her stories.”
“I don’t.” Boba reassured him while gathering some droid parts and ship models and shouldered his backpack “Dad?... what’s my second path?”
“A single person cannot be in two places.” Jango shook his head at Boba’s unease. For now, the irregular schedule of the past days didn’t do any good. “Finish your packing.” He checked the cockpit, downloaded some data and activated a sub-routine that would survey the parked vessel. He preceded his son on the ladder, retrieved his acquisition from the cage and walked her down the landing ramp, sealing the ship behind them.
Tomoe pulled the plastifoil blanket tightly around her for a hint of modesty. Cold grey fog hovered around the landing pad and the gnawing bulk of the spaceship that brought her here. Dew clung to the metal surfaces and dropped of navigation lights and railings. Large matte-finished grey domes piled high over the misty cushions, their few corrugations sparkling in the sunset... or was it a sunrise? The dampened sound of a surf emerged, but the ground far below was hidden in the fog.
It looked peaceful, cultivated and certainly not like a robber’s den. A push just below her bare shoulder blades convinced her that this was not the time to look for help. A transparent double-door opened into a deserted white corridor with black wall-panels here and there. Its large radius hid the end of it... if it had an end at all, Tomoe thought.
Boba hopped forwards and punched a panel with colorful controls and a little script. The door slid open and revealed an asymmetric room and more doors. “Living room, my room, dad’s room, store...”
Jango locked the door from the inside, “Fresher.” he cut the introductions. “Get in.” Standing in the doorframe he removed his helmet, put the gauntlets inside and passed it to Boba, slapping his utility belt on top of the pile. “Lock this up in the store and unpack your luggage.” He followed Tomoe into the bathroom and locked the door behind them.
“You are going to pee, shower, wash your hair, tend to your bruises and put on fresh bandages.”
“I will, Master Fett.” She stood silent, blanket clutched to her chest, eyes firmly to the ground. “Please... no need to waste your time here.”
“Now.” He didn’t raise his voice “I’ll make sure you do it right this time.” Fett’s eyes bore into hers until she turned around.
Tomoe moved mechanically through the bathroom to do his bidding. The thermal blanket slipped over her heels and billowed on the floor when she entered the shower and figured the controls. Hot water hosed down, merciful steam engulfed her nakedness. She splashed handfuls of water into her face, then rested her palms and forehead against the wall and let the water soak her hair.
Fett’s gaze slid down her backside slowly. Areas of tanned skin peeled off the small of her back and shoulders, revealing tender red tissue underneath. The long scratch on her rips leaked blood again and a fresh set of angry claw marks decorated the heart shape of her butt. ‘So much about unchanged condition...’ He thought while he folded up the blanket then gathered bacta-spray and fresh dressing material from a med-kit to fix the damage others had inflicted on his property.
Dust, blood and stench tainted the water on the way to the drain. When the warmth returned into Tomoe’s hands and feet, she found a shampoo-dispenser and massaged her scalp and hair. The fluid burned worse than the water once it soaked through the bandages around her wrists. She washed quickly from neck to toes and rinsed off, casting a glance over her shoulder for a towel.
“Hold your wrists out,” Fett cut and unwrapped the wet dressing material gently from the caked blood and disinfectant. “Clean that area. The second button activates the dryer,” he sent her back under the hose and reached for the bacta-spray. The water ceased and a warm air stream filled the cabin.
Tomoe offered her hands again obediently but balked at the green smelly aerosol, “Please don’t put this filth on me.”
Unaffected by her complaint, he caught her slick arm by the elbow and continued to treat her wrists. “I’ll not have scars on your body. The bacta will fight inflammation and restore the skin,” he redressed her wrists with fresh bandages in case he needed to restrain her again. “You will apply it to any sore spot on you,” he offered her a small pot.
Indeed, the green stuff felt soothing on her skin. She dipped her fingertips into the jelly and dabbed it on her collection of bruises hesitantly.
He watched her flexible body bend and twist, the long raven black hair fluttering in the warm air stream. Once sanitized, she would be delicious. “...and inside your body,” he reminded her with a lewd grin.
She caught a brief look at his hungry eyes, but gathered more bacta on her fingertips and backed away. She squatted into the corner of the cabin, her hair sinking around her like a cloak. “Where I can see it,” Fett’s voice intruded from behind her. Tomoe gulped and used the word she couldn’t avoid any longer. “NO.” She straightened up and faced him.
A wry smile came on his face. The time had come to show her that she could fight anybody... but him.
Something snapped in her. “You are no better than them... hut’uun,” It was the only word she knew in his language and she spat it at him.
What appeared like an attempt to walk right through him was stopped by his quick step into the shower. Before she could twist past him, armor connected with her bare chest, sending her stumbling backwards. “I have killed for less” he snarled and seized her throat in a bout of Mandalorian short fuse which was instantly met by a strong female knee-jerk reflex.
Tomoe winced as pain shot up her knee where it had connected with the unyielding cod-piece, momentarily paralyzing her thigh. She clung onto his wrist for balance and tried to pry his hand away from her throat. Her short nails dug into his palm. Once she recovered a stance, she switched to clawing his face.
Jango slapped her hands away, spun around and slammed the wildcat on the end of his arm against the opposite wall, thus interrupting an attack on his nearly outstretched elbow and used the remaining momentum to push her face down over a cabinet.
When the black freckles cleared from her vision, Tomoe found herself pinned between a rock and a hard place, immobilized by his superior weight. Cold armor plates pressed over her back and against her thighs, her strength wearing down quickly for mere breathing.
Without haste, he captured and twisted her flailing arms over the angry red sigil between her shoulder blades, then clamped her wrists together with a single hand. Once he had secured his captive, he lifted his weight a little to scoop a streak of bacta on his fingertip that had ended up on a shoulder bell.
Her twisting weakened to a trembling, “What are you doing?” she gasped for breath, the pristine white surroundings fading into black again.
“Just rising to your expectations.” He pressed an armored knee in the soft hollow under her butt, between her inner thighs, forcing her legs apart. His bacta-coated forefinger parted her tender folds and accurately rubbed her clit. He pulled away to snap open the constricting codpiece and lubed himself with some more bacta.
“No...”
Without hesitation he drove inside her tight wetness, pinning her onto the cubicle with a low groan. The struggling of her firm muscles around him felt divine as he allowed her mercifully to adjust to his hardness. But soon he wanted more. He withdrew slightly then pushed forwards again. “Easy, you won’t be hurt,” his voice grew a bit hoarser as he began to grind and drive into her with slow rhythmic thrusts, trying to get a response from her.
Instead, she lay prone under the vicious grip twisting her joints. Couldn’t she see that she was at his mercy, yet he wouldn’t do anything unnatural to her, no matter how hard she tried to provoke him? He continued using her to pleasure himself, easing up just enough to pull her hip away from the edge, then thrust into her with hard, even strokes that steadily sped up until he was pounding into her body with abandon. He buried his face in her hair and bit the nape of her neck to stifle his moan as he came inside her.
When he withdrew from her aching body to get tissues and clean them up, Tomoe lay still and struggled to regain consciousness. He rearranged his codpiece and gently wiped her thighs clean. “Any other sore spots?” he asked calmly.
She tried to straighten up “No,” her legs were jelly. She sagged to the ground, “...master...” she had to gulp the next word down together with the bile rising in her throat. Her head was spinning when she pushed herself up on hands and knees and retched on the spotless white floor. A strong arm wrapped around her waist and held her up while she fed her breakfast to the toilet. When the dry-heaving subsided, she was relocated over the sink. Cold water splashed into her face.
Once she lifted her head Jango pushed a glass of mouthwash into one hand and some tissues in the other. “Clean up.” He stood back and watched her mop the floor impartially. “What did you tell him?” he inquired.
“I just answered his questions.” Tomoe denied eye-contact and stared at the floor. She felt strangely hollow. Was this how the end felt? She had enough of it. Just a little further and it might be over. “Very basic answers you seem to have kept from him.” She collected the scattered wipes, dropped them into garbage and turned to wash her hands with a detached stare at her fingernails. “What did you do to your ‘mistress’, master Fett?”
Jango observed her pulling herself together and briefly considered to humble her some more and make her apologize for the insult. “He’s a clone ... not a mother-born child who ‘everybody protects’....” He mocked her and decided that he could beat the osik out of her any time later if required. For now, Boba was waiting.
“A clone,” she acknowledged without true recognition. “So...” She paused “...does it make a difference?”
“Not to me and not to you, either.” He threw a bundle of clothing at her. “Deal with it.
She put on the unmarked fatigues mechanically. It dawned to her. Did he think she volunteered for something? “What do you want?”
“You will learn your place. Aside from the point that was just under discussion, you will be there for him, keep him well feed and doing his homework while I’m at work. Now concentrate at the task at hand.” He rested a hand on the small of her back shoved her through the door in an amicable gesture.
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