Star of Nal Hutta

Star of Nal Hutta: Pt 1
Tags: Star Wars, Sci-Fi, Lap Dance, Slavery, Kissing, Hetero

A guttural roar marked the end of Diy’s dance. She opened her mouth to plead her case, but Spettatha, a Wookiee as dark as Tattooine night, growled again.

She expected the hard yank of the collar at her neck before she felt it, and was dragged back by a Gamorrean brute until she fell on her butt.

No matter what her mother had always told her about hate, she was starting to hate Wookiees. Maybe not all wookiees, but at least her owner, Spettatha. Sure she was alive only because he hadn’t ripped her head off, a scenario she unfortunately knew was possible, but she didn’t exactly feel thankful.

She was lead, at axe-point, back to her quarters. That meant walking down the long grime-ridden hall, past rooms she knew held illegal goods, hired thugs, and other slaves of different varieties.

Her room slid open, she was shoved in before a series of oinks and grunts that still made her sick to her stomach after so many years. It was like being touched by a rolling ball of fat and grease. The door locked behind her, and Diy gathered up the slack of her chain.

The room contained four features: A barred window that lead to the light acidic rain of Nal Hutta, a hole in the floor that lead somewhere she didn’t want to think about, a thin sheet on the ground complete with fleas, and another slave collar.

Diy sat on the floor, crossed her legs, and tried to remember what her mother used to tell her. She was supposed to stay calm, stay positive, avoid fear, avoid hate, that was the only way to survive. She avoided the obvious thought, and began the small chant her mother taught her.

She needed all of her energy for what came next. It was the same routine, and she knew it was a matter of time before Spettatha got over his annoyance with her misstep during her dance, and finished with his guests in the den. It was night, and soon she would have to, ‘sooth the beast’, as they called it.

She chanted, and waited, ignoring the world around her. Then she heard the swish of the door to her cell. She turned and saw the Gamorrean, or maybe a different Gamorrean, reaching for her chain.

“No,” She said, “I’ll come.”

He yanked the chain anyway, the hard metal pulling against her neck. Diy hopped ahead of him, and responded to his joyful snorts by walking faster. They were headed back to the den, as Spettatha called it. The Wookiee had trophies all around the room, the head of some terrible furred beast, a long sword with a curved blade, a broken blaster. In the center of the room there was a stage with a pole, and a cushioned chair was seated right in front of it. Spettatha was sitting there, his Rodian advisor at his side, and another Gamorrean.

The edge of the axe cut into her back, and Diy yelped and went forward. She stepped onto the stage, and looked down at all the eyes on her. The guard brought Spettatha the end of her chain, and then the Wookiee roared so loudly that she couldn’t help but jump in place.

“Dance!” He said.

Spettatha had power on Nal Hutta, just enough to make this possible. She figured that was why he thought he needed dancers, despite her never seeing Spettatha take an interest in any woman that stepped in his little lair. He could buy security, and he could buy and sell living people. As far as Diy was concerned, everything else was just details.

She swayed her hips, bringing her hands together in front of her as she pushed her thighs out to the left, and then to the right. Her arms travelled up her stomach, touching the exposed green flesh at her navel, and sliding up the line. She kept her eyes away from his, she knew better now.

She kept it simple. It was a routine at this point, rhythmic motions, slow music piped into the room.

The guards left the room, the Rodian took his leave, and soon the room was just for her and Spettatha.

The Wookiee relaxed in his chair, occasionally taking pleasure in yanking the chain enough to throw her off balance. The yanks came less and less, and soon she was sure he was sleep. She sat down there on the stage, and leaned her head against the pole. She couldn’t leave, not without waking him. Her neck was sore for a week the last time she tried that. Diy would close her eyes, and wait for tomorrow.

Then she heard a familiar sound, the pee-yow of a blaster, then the squeal of a Gamorrean.

Diy tried to look behind her to the room door, the sound came from the next room over. She looked back, and saw that Spettatha was still sleep, the sound hadn’t disturbed him. Was someone attacking them? Should she wake him up? Diy stayed seated, and tried not to worry. Fear, fear was bad.

She heard another squeal, and then a heavy thud. This time Spettatha stirred in place, and Diy prepared for the worse.

There was the swish of the door opening behind her, but by the time she looked, the door had closed again, and there was nothing there to see but darkness. She looked left, and then right, but there was nothing. She closed her eyes, someone was definitely here, there was no doubt about it.

Her eyes went to a wide couch for guests to watch her stage, and there she saw a man, face as red as a minus in pazaak. He put a finger up to silence her, then brought up a blaster with the other hand.

She suddenly felt real nervous. What if this all went wrong? She would be punished as if it was her fault, and that meant missing a meals for a week, or worse.

“Hey,” Diy whispered, “Get out of here, are you stupid or something? You’ll get me killed.”

She looked back at the Wookiee, then back at the red man, and the red man was gone.

A door opened, and the Rodian came bursting into the room. It started to yell in that annoying buzzing tone. “Sir, wake up! We have an intruder.”

Spettatha sat up, and growled loudly. His first instinct, as Diy feared, as to yank on her chain so hard that she was pulled right off the stage.

As she hit the ground, she could see the feet of the red man, hiding behind a piece of furniture.

The Wookiee stood up and looked around. “Who is it?” He roared, “Who wants to face me?”

At least, as far as she understood wookiees.

“He came this way sir,” The Rodian said as it looked around the room, “He killed two guards already, I have called for reinforcements from Donda.

Spettatha worked for Donda the Hutt, who was as minor as you could be as a Hutt. Which meant that she owned large chunks of land, and likely had more slaves than Diy could count. Diy was lucky enough to have only met the slug once.

The Wookiee sniffed at the air, and then growled a threat.

“You should have thought of that before you crossed me, Spettatha,” The red man said, “First I’ll take care of you, and then your master.”

The sound that came from Spettatha was something she had never heard before, it was a whimper.

The Rodian pulled out a small blaster, and Spettatha dropped her chain.

A shot rang out, and in a screech, the Rodian fell to the ground, his own blaster ringing out.

All eyes went to the red man, and Spettatha roared so loud that Diy had to cover her ears. The Wookiee charged, and the blaster fired in the dark. The blaster was knocked aside, and immediately she thought the red hero was done for.

Then she saw the Rodians blaster on the ground. She didn’t know how to shoot, she couldn’t even think of shooting a weapon, but still her eyes were locked there.

She looked back and saw that the red man managed to kick Spettatha off of him. He stood, a wound on his shoulder, but seemingly unafraid of the massive ball of fur and claws in front of him.

He was here to rescue her, or at least to stop the slave trading monster. She could help, she had to help, or she was going to die a slave.

She dove to the ground, picked up the blaster, and fired.

She had to open her eyes. When she did, she realized both the Wookiee and the man were looking at her, her shot having gone wide enough that it blazed a hole in the ceiling.

Spettatha roared and turned to go back to killing her would-be-hero, but he caught a jumping kick to the chest, and went sliding across the ground of the den. The man dove for his own blaster, and then put half a dozen blaster shots into Spettatha’s hide until the room smelled like burnt bantha.

Diy didn’t know what to do. Her owner, for as long as her memory went, was now dead on the floor.

“You…” Diy stuttered, “You killed him.”

The red man, who she now realized had to be a Zeltron, holstered his blaster, “That was the plan.”

“You freed me!” Diy shouted.

He furrowed his brow, “Not exactly part of the plan.”

He started to walk down a side hall, and Diy looked around the room. Two dead bodies, and likely guards on the way. She grabbed as much of her chain as she could manage, and followed behind him.

“Well thank you, either way,” She said, “How are we going to get out of here?”
“We?” The man said, suddenly standing straight as if Diy had just spoken blasphemy. He looked at her, and then looked her up and down, “No, I’m just here to get what’s mine, and then I’m gone.”

Diy felt her heart thump in her chest. Her eyes went wide, and she felt that hint of fear again. He would leave her behind? He just saved her, and he was going to leave her to be killed by whoever came next?

“But,” She said as she moved up close to him, “They’ll kill me, or torture me. Maybe even sell me off, to who knows who.”

He gritted his teeth, and looked at her with a set of impossibly colorful eyes.

“But you’re like, used to that right?” He said, and then he looked down at the floor.

She could see his mind turning. She needed something, anything, or she was going to be left here to die. But she had nothing to offer him. Her whole life was a tiny room, with a hole in the floor, and a flea-ridden mat.

“I’ll do anything,” She said, “Please, you can’t just leave me.”

“Anything?” He asked. Then there was the distant sound of doors opening.

“Poodoo,” He said before grabbing her hand and taking her with him further down the hall.

They poked their head into one room, and then the next, before he saw what he was looking for. It was a large plasteel container. He ran into the room, and touched a small button on the side of the container. It gave a readout, and he nodded in approval.

“Perfect,” He said, “Everything is still here.”

“Are you sure this is the best time to be appraising stolen goods?” Diy said as she followed him in, “They’ll be here any moment now.”

He pushed the case away from the wall, and then stuck a small metal ball against the outter wall.

“I don’t plan to be here when they do,” He said with a waggle of his crimson eyebrows, “You might want to step into the hall.”

They both ran into the hall, and just as the door closed there was a blast followed by the whole building rumbling.

They opened the door, and the whole wall was missing, with the open air to Nal Hutta greeting her. There on the opposite side was a swoopbike with a lifting rig attached.

“Hop on,” He said as he ran and jumped on, “We’re getting out of here.”

She couldn’t believe it, she was going to be free. This man, whoever he was, had done what no one had ever thought to do before. No more dancing until her legs burned, no more torture at the hands of Gamorreans, no more pleasing that Wookiee monster’s guests. She could do whatever she wanted, until the day she died.

They rode off into the wastes of Nal Hutta, and slowed at a small port. As they came to a stop, Diy tried to prepare herself for thanking her hero once again.

“I can’t say it enough,” She said, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” He said as he got off the bike. Some Ugnaught came and he pointed them off toward one of the landing bays.

“Can I get your name?” She said, “I’m sorry, I should have asked earlier.”

He looked at her, and Diy stood up straighter. There was something about the way he looked at her. It had a mix of appreciation, like someone in the audience, and grief.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?” He asked.

Diy’s mouth opened, and a random assortment of noises came out.

People had told her that before, or at least told her owner. She had heard people call her beautiful so many times, but never before did it put a knot in her stomach. It felt, strange, she didn’t hate it.

He smiled.

“Yes,” She said, feeling heat come to her face.

“That’s a strange color to blush,” he said.

“You didn’t answer my question,” She said, trying anything to get the conversation back on track.

Two Ugnaughts returned with a small freight-tray, so he started walking in the direction he pointed out to them.

“Name’s Bardex Deepwel,” He said.

“I’m Diy,” she said as she followed, “Just Diy.”

“Nice name,” He said.

Just his words seemed to make her stomach warmer. It was a foreign sensation, and she didn’t know what to do with it.

“So, what should I do now?” She said, “I’ve been a slave my whole life, I mean all I know how to do is dance, a little singing, is juggling a good skill?”

“Depends on what you juggle,” He said as they passed into a hanger.

Diy was going to ask what he meant, but she stopped and looked around the room. It was so busy. There were so many people in there, different ships in different bays, and so much open space. The last time she had seen that much open space was when she was a little girl. It was breathtaking.

She noticed Bardex was getting away from her, so she bundled up her chain and chased after him. He was going up to a shuttle, and she saw that other plasteel containers were there, being prepared to load. The ship’s bay was open, and he started to walk up. Diy followed without asking.

She didn’t know if she was supposed to follow him up, but she also didn’t want to let him get away. It was more than just wanting to thank him, or ask for more help, it felt like being far from him would be a bad idea. She felt something coming from him, and she liked it.

That was something her mother would have warned her about. ‘Keep your head clear, don’t let anything cloud your thoughts.’ Diy was sure handsome Zeltron were high on the list of cloud producing phenomenon.

He went to a door on the ship and opened it, leading further in. She followed, and made it into what she assumed had to be his personal shuttle.

The whole interior had wild swatches of paint, pinks, yellows, blues, splashed across the wall as if someone had taken paint and just thrown it until it was empty. There was a helmet hanging from the wall, colored a loud red and blue. The shuttle was mostly a cockpit, a small central space with a table surrounded by chairs, and a door she was sure lead to sleeping space.

“This is amazing,” She said, “Is this yours?”

“Sort of,” Bardex replied, smirking at her as he shrugged, “I still owe on it, but who doesn’t.”

“Is that why you came for Spettatha?” She nearly spat the name, already she was over that Wookiee’s existence.

He nodded, “You’ve got it, beautiful.”

Despite herself, she blushed at the term.

“I think I’ll be wanted here,” She said, “I know I’ve asked a lot, but I get the feeling you’re leaving Nal Hutta. Could you take me with you?”

Bardex made that face again. It was like he wanted to touch her, and push her away, all at the same time.

“I don’t know,” He said, “You don’t want to go with me. That’s real dangerous, beautiful.”

“Please,” She said, grabbing his arm. She thought better of herself, and backed a few paces away.

Bardex grabbed his arm and looked down at it, and then looked at her. For a moment she was afraid. The sensation twisted her up inside, mixed with something else she couldn’t figure out. Would he be mad? She just touched him for a moment.

“How about this,” He said as he sat at the table, “You pay me for rescuing you, and I’ll see about getting you off this world.”

There was a smirk on his face, but Diy still asked, “Pay you? How?”

“You only have so many skills,” He said, “Plus, I’ve never had a personal dance.”

Her mouth fell open. He wanted her to dance? She was freed from slavery for what? To dance for someone else?

“No,” She said, turning away from him, “Please, I mean, I really don’t want to…”

Bardex’s expression shifted, and she could feel his frustration coming off of him in waves. That face, that nice smile, those radiant eyes, changed to something grim, something that made her shudder.

“I mean,” She elaborated, “I guess I could, I did say anything.”

“You did,” He said.

She stepped up on the small table, getting her balance. She could see him looking over her, appraising her exposed skin. It was just one more dance.

She leaned forward, and touched her fingers to her knees. Her fingers slid up, slipping over her skin until it tapped the bottom of her leotard. Her hips swayed to one side, and then to the other, her fingers sliding up her waist until her hands gripped there. She pushed her chest one way, and her thighs the other, moving to a song she kept in her head.

Then she began to chant, in the same sing-song voice her mother used to help her learn, setting the pace for her motions.

“Look at me,” He commanded.

She was startled, and looked up to see his eyes locked on her. She was frozen for a moment, unsure how to go forward. You didn’t watch them as you danced, you didn’t make eye contact. Diy began to move again, swaying, circling her waist, sliding her fingers up her body. They went over her stomach, cupped her breasts, slid up her shoulders. She circled there on the table, her eyes watching him over one shoulder, and then over the next.

His eyes drifted to her rump, and her hands went to cup her ass. It felt hot under his gaze, his look energizing her movements. She could see what he wanted, could feel his very desire. He wanted to touch her, to feel her, to be in her.

She felt like she was sweating, her breath became deeper. She squatted down, her fingers going to her knees, her legs sliding open as she rose again. His eyes devoured her bite by bite. She could feel her body responding in kind, reactions she only understood by necessity.

Then Bardex looked away, and Diy slowed her dance until she stopped.

“Is something wrong?” She said, “Did I do it wrong?”

He shook his head, “No,” He said, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

She gasped. She needed him to do this. He had saved her, he was there for her even though he didn’t know she needed it, and now he was going to save her again. She couldn’t let him second guess  himself. Plus, she didn’t want to leave just yet. He felt so nice, he just wanted to do good, she could tell in her heart.

Diy stepped off of the table, and put her hands on either side of him at the shoulder, “Yes you can.”

He looked up, and Diy felt that shudder again.

“What?” He asked.

“You can do it,” She said, “Please, I needed you then, and I need you now. Bardex, please. Let me pay you.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, and that unnerving feeling spread down her spine. Then he smiled, and nodded.

Diy let out a sigh of relief, and then she turned there right in front of him. She started to sing again. She was sure the song was in Mirialan, words she barely understood beyond their vague meanings. Focus, prepare, bend, cleanse, calm, move.

She looked at Bardex, his eyes on her rear as she swayed it just in front of him. Her hands slid up her sides, her fingers feeling like small lightning rods as they tickled her skin. Her muscles tensed as she brought a knee up extended her leg far above her head.

Her nipples were tight. As she turned toward him, she saw him notice, then she felt him notice. It was so different from every other dance, his pleasure struck her, drowned her in feelings that made her feel like she was buried in hot towels.

It was like she could imagine him touching her. She could imagine him imagining touching her. His fingers would go to her thighs first, smooth and green, he could reach them and touch them without fear. Then he would cup her supple rear, get brave enough to squeeze.

Diy was breathing in small gasps now. She turned away from him, and sat in his lap. Her legs to each side of him, she circled her hips over his legs. She could feel his heat, his excitement, touch her from behind. She laid back, her head going beside his. He was still looking at her, his eyes went down over her breasts, those breasts he wanted to rub, and knead, and lick.

Diy shivered, and turned in her seat. They sat eye to eye now, but she kept up her chant as best she could, moved her hips in slow adjustments, ran her fingers over her chest, enjoyed the sharp pang of pleasure as she struck her own nipples.

Those eyes, those musical eyes that wanted every part of her, and yet stayed away as best they could. She didn’t know what to think of a man like him. He killed her owner, wasn’t he her new owner? He was willing to set her free, did she want to be free?

She kissed him. Their mouths met, and just when she thought she wouldn’t know what to do next, his tongue found hers. It send a shock through her body like a droid prodding the wrong socket. Her body tightened, she held him close, and felt him do the same to her. Their breathing matched, heavy pants that belonged to some creatures from the Hutta swamps.

Then he broke the kiss.

“Why did you do that?” He asked.

She could feel his heat there, it was so close to her. Why was she so wet?

“I’m sorry,” She said, “I just wanted to pay you.”

His eyes narrowed again, and something tickled her, something dangerous, something fun.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?” He asked again, his hand on the open skin at her back.

She looked back at him, unblinking, “No.”

He smiled, “I guess I could use an entertainer on the journey.”

Diy smiled, and her eyes began to water.

She stood, and he stood too.

“Thank you so much,” She said, “I won’t let you down, I sweat it.”

“I’m sure,” He said, his eyes looking her up and down. She couldn’t lose that strange feeling now.

“Oh,” She said, looking at her chain, “Is there any way I can get out of this leash?”

Bardex looked at it, and then grabbed a length of it near where it met her neck. He pulled it away from her, and then grabbed the blaster in his other hand.

“Close your eyes,” He said.

She did, and then was nearly deafened by the sound of the blaster going off right near her.

When she opened her eyes, most of the chain had fallen away. The part around her neck, and a small bit that reached the crevice of her breasts, remained.

She lifted an eyebrow at him.

A wide smile spread across his face, and Diy took an instinctive step back.

“I like that part on you,” He said, “We should keep it for now.”

She looked at the chain, “Of course.”

“I’ll show you where we sleep,” Bardex said, “Then you can tell me something about yourself, like what’s up with that tattoo on your forehead.”

She didn’t look him in the eyes as he walked past her. Diy knew exactly what her tattoo, a small yellow diamond on the center of her forehead, was about. It was all her mother could give her, a small token of the life she never got to live. It was to mark her only accomplishment in life, surviving.

“Yes, master.”